


What are you on ?

by insxne



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Car Accidents, Depression, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drugged Sex, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Murder, Overdose, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, depressed Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insxne/pseuds/insxne
Summary: What if Connor Walsh really had a drug addiction ?'Where do you hide your drugs ?'This question took Connor completely out of his guard.'What ?' He repeated, surprised.'Your drugs, I know you must be hiding it somewhere in here.' Oliver said calmly.'Not... Not here' Connor whispered, afraid that he did speak louder, Oliver would know it was a lie.It didn't work.





	1. Chapter one : I'm a bad person

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first ao3 fic, and its a coliver one. It's going to be really dark and sad, with a lot angst, with drugs, sex, depression and suicide, so if it triggers you, don't read.  
> Enjoy !

" _I screwed up, Oliver."_

 

He remembered how the panic suddenly bursted inside him. He remembered the way he was drowning in his own anxiety. The way he was struggling to breathe. The way Oliver was looking at him. 

_"I screwed up so bad."_

Sam's dead eyes were staring right at him. Both accusing and empty. There was blood everywhere. He wanted to throw up.   
He threw up. The ugly, awful feeling returning his stomach, painfully squeezing his heart. He wanted it to stop. He wanted it to _stop_. 

_"I screwed up."_

Connor desperately tried to focus on the notes resting on his lap, to wave away the memories and the pain that went with it, but he couldn't stop from hearing Michaela's sobs, Laurel's erratic breath, the fire's crackling. The awful sound of the bones breaking under his blows. Connor put a hand on his mouth, to keep him quiet, not wanting to wake up Oliver. He was asleep in the bedroom, and Connor didn't want him to see him like this and start asking questions. 

He just needed to _calm down._

When he finally managed to slow down his heartbeats, he looked at his notes, but everything was blurring, like he was under water. He started to feel angry, so angry, against Sam, for being dead, against Rebecca et Wes, for driving him into this crazy, crazy story ; he threw the papers away and took his face in his hands. He contemplated for a moment the idea of going into the bedroom and cuddle against Oliver, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep.   
Connor's throat went dry, and he fought back the tears. He wanted to talk to Oliver, so badly, to ask him to hold him and to comfort him, but he couldn't tell him anything. He couldn't tell him about what he had done, how he burned and carved her boss's husband. 

He felt so alone than the ugly idea which had been resting in his mind and that he had tried to push away suddenly popped up. He closed his eyes during a few secondes, catching his breath, and then he reached out to grab his phone with shaking hands and sent a quick text.

**_I need a refill._ **

The answer arrived right after. 

**_Come by at 7. $15 each._ **

**_Okay_ **

Connor lets out a breath he didn't even he was holding. Putting his phone away, he laid on the couch and stared blankly at the ceiling, counting his irregular heartbeats against his chest. He felt light he was going to explode. He just needed to get through the night. Then everything will be better, right ? 

_Wrong._

He stayed in this position until the sun started to rise and his all body ached for being still during hours. He checked the clock : it was six. Oliver seemed to be still asleep, and if Connor wanted to be on time, he needed to get prepared now and leave before Oliver woke up. He stood up, ignoring his painful muscles, put on his shoes and grab his jacket. He slipped a hand in the pocket to see if his wallet was there, before exiting the apartment. A disturbing feeling hanging in the chest, he closed the door softly, careful not to making any noises.

When he let himself sank behind the wheel of his car, he wanted nothing more than just crying. 

He was a fucking bad person. 

 

***

Connor parked his car in a tagged alley and cut the motor. Around him, the colorful drawings painted on the walls made him remember the first time he came here. He was climbing the stairs to get to his home when he found his neighbours' son, a seventeen years old kid, sniffing a line of white powder. Cocaine, maybe. Connor didn't ask. The kid just looked terrified, probably because he thought Connor was going to tell to his parents that their son was taking drugs, but, instead, Connor just asked him who was selling him his stuff, and if he could get in touch with him. The teenager arranged him a encounter with the guy, and Connor went. 

He had absolutely no idea how a teenager knew a drug dealer, but he didn't care. Finn, that was the dealer name, sold him whatever pills he wanted, even if all Connor waned was Adderall. And that was only when he had exams to get through. 

He lied. He lied to Oliver. He didn't have a drug problem. He just  _killed_ someone. 

It was one of the most horrible things that the human could do. Of course, there were way more worst things than murder, but still, it was absolutely against the human nature. Stealing, ripping someone's life away. 

Connot wished he never agreed to drive Wes to the house that night. He wished he was just like Asher, ignorant about what had happened in the same room they were working everyday. And out of it. 

Connir almost throw up. The awful feeling was becoming worse, and it felt like there were heavy stones in his stomach. Or a beast in his body eating him from the inside out. He forced himself to close his eyes and to take deep, slow breaths. Everything was going to get better. Soon, it will all be just a distant bad memory about they will all laugh. 

But, meanwhile, he needed to forget. To forget how shitty his life was. How shitty  _he_ was. 

When he opened his eyes, a grey car appeared at the entrance of the alley and finally stopped in front of him. Connor, his heart beating unusually fast, got out of his own car, walked to the other and slipped inside, on the passenger seat. 

The man behind the wheel turned to face him and smiled. He had blond curls cut short, a pale skin, and his eyes, deep blue orbs, were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. He was really handsome, and if there wasn't Oliver, Connor (or rather the old Connor) surely would have taken him on the backseat. But Connor now had a boyfriend he really wanted to be with, and he had changed. Murdering someone had made him change. 

Besides, he already had sex with Finn, on the second time they met, and Connor rarely slept more than one time with his hookups. To keep himself away from any emotional attachment. Except with a few guys (because they were  _really_ good) and Oliver. But Oliver was different. Finn wasn't. Finn was just his drug dealer, and it was in the only way Connor ever needed him. 

Finn grabbed a bag from the backseat and took two bottles of little blue pills out of it. Connor handed him the money before taking the Adderall pills. And, suddenly, they just seemed so, so light in  his hands, and he realised that it wouldn't make him forget. It wasn't enough. It was only going to make him light-headed, but that was all. Connor needed more. 

'Do you have something stronger ?' He asked, putting the Adderall in his pocket. 

Finn raised an eyebrow, looking a little surprised. 

'No shit ? The "I only want Adderall pills" guy wants to buy something else ? What's happening ? Do you have boyfriend driving you crazy ?' He joked, a little smirks on his lips. 

'Yes', Connor lied. 'Look, I just need to get, like, really high.'

'okayy' Finn said, and he seemed to start thinking, because he suddenly had a serious expression. 'You know what ? I'm going to give you a little dose of each, so you can test, and then tell me which you prefer.' 

'Which of what ?' Connor wasn't feeling very comfortable. A little voice in the back of his head warned him that it was a bad idea, that he should stick to the Adderall pills, that Oliver would be so mad if he found out, but Connor ignored it. 

Finn put three little transparent plastic bags in his hands, and Connor saw a white powder in it. He frowned, before looking up at Finn. 

'What is it ?' He asked. 

'Cocaine, ketamine, and something called "the seventh heaven" drug.' Finn answered confidently. 'Believe me, with that, all your problems disappaear.' 

_Exactly what I need,_ Connor thought. Finn was a fucking drugs god. 

He started opening his wallet again, but Finn stopped him, shaking his head.

'On the house' he said. 'You're just testing it, so... enjoy.' 

Connor thanked him, and, slipping the bags in his jeans' pocket, he went out of the car, and back to his. He suddenly, and strangely, felt better, feeling the drugs against him. 

He stopped by a store not far from Oliver's, and bought two breakfasts, in case of Oliver was awake and asked him where he went. 

When he stepped in the appartment, he silently thanked him for having the idea of buying breakfast when he saw Oliver on the couch, obsviously waiting for him. 

'Where did you go ?' Oliver asked right away, his voice hostile. 

Connor handed up the breakfast bags. 

'Thought you would be angry. Besides, I've kind of neglected you because of my studies, so... Just wanted to make up for that.' Connor answered with a bright smile. 

He instantly saw the guilt appearing on Oliver's face for attacking him. And Connor felt guilty too. Because he was, again, lying to him.

He wanted to laugh. Or to cry. He absolutely didn't know anything at this point. 

He was such a bad person. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooo, this was the first chapter of this fiction. I hoped you guys enjoyed it, the next one will come soon.  
> Connor isn't a drug addict, or rather not yet. And It's kind of out the seasons, because it contains things from the three seasons.   
> If you are struggling with anything that is in the tag, please talk to someone, you can even talk to me.   
> Big hugs


	2. Chapter two : I'm so screwed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor begins spiralling down. Oliver just want to help him.

Each time Oliver wasn't in the same room that him, Connor would open the bottle and swallow the Adderall pill. It helped him focus on the lessons, it helped him focus on the cases they worked with Annalise, it helped him focus on everything but what happened to Sam Keating. He didn't touch the others drugs yet. A part of him was hesitating, didn't have the courage to take them. He had moved them from his jacket to the bathroom, under the sink, in the air vent, where he knew Oliver would never look at. 

They stayed in there for almost two weeks until the day Connor, waking up after a particularly bad nightmare (Sam dying again, and again, and again), slipped out of the bed, Oliver still asleep under the sheets. He fell on the groping on his knees and opened the bottle of Adderall with shaking hands before realising it was empty. Desperately, he toppled it over, but there weren't any pills left. He almost screemed in frustration.  _No, no, no, not this,_ he needed those, he needed them, he needed to calm down, to forget, he needed...

He suddenly remembered the bags under the sink.  _"With this, all your problems will disappear."_ Finn had said. Connor wanted it. He wanted it so bad. The part of him still unsure didn't say anything. So he stood up, threw the empty bottle in the trash, went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. He couldn't take the risk of Oliver walking in. 

Carefully, he opened the air vent, reached his hand in to grab the three bags and took them out. He stared at them for a moment, his heart beating furiously against his chest and his throat awfully tight. On each one, there was a letter written with a blue marker : a C, and K (cocaine and ketamine, Connor assumed) and a 7H for the last. 

Conor had never taken the "seventh heaven" drug and the K drug. He had tried cocaine a few times before during parties, but that was it. At least he knew that, besides making him euphoric, it didn't help to sleep at all. And the 7H drug kind of spoke for itself. He just hoped the ketamine would have some good effects. 

He thought of getting his phone to see on internet, but he realised he let it in the bedroom, and he didn't try to go take it. Oliver could wake up, and Connor really didn't want this. 

He took a deep breath, before putting the two bags back in the air vent and closing it. He opened the other one, made a thin line with the white powder on the sink, grabbed a piece of paper and rolled it carefully. It was exactly like biking : you never forgot how to do it. Well, the same worked for sniffing drugs. 

Connot put the improvised straw just above the line and he stuck his nose against the other end. Then he took a quick and strong inspiration by the nose.

When the drug entered his organism, it felt like explosions behind his eyes and in his head. He strangled a scream, dropped the straw and fell back on the ground, breathing heavily. The pain between his eyes was almost unbearable, like someone was having fun pushing a knife in his flesh. Everything was blurring, undulating, deforming. His heart was shouting at his ears, and it felt like the world was imploding around him. Connor took his head between his hands, pressing his palms against his ears to stop all the awful noises, and let out a whimper. He was cold and burning at the same time.

Suddenly, he was terrified. What the hell did Finn give him ? It wasn't supposed to feel like that. Fuck,  _fuck,_ he should have check on internet. What if Finn poisoned him ? What if Connor was overdosing ? No, no _, no. No._

And then it all stopped. Just like that. The world stopped spinning madly. His heart stopped racing and screaming. 

It only felt like he wasn't in his body anymore. Like his soul left it, free, realieved to finally,  _finally_ , let go of all the pain and the ugly memories. 

Connor giggled, and the sound of his own voice seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. He tried to move, to put his hand in front of his eyes, but there weren't any part of his body responding to his brain.  _Strange._

Around him, everything was fuzzy and colourful and a little shiny. It felt nice. It felt like a wonderful dream. 

He wasn't Connor Walsh, the law student, the Annalise Keating's assistant, one of the murderers of San Keating, the playboy and now Oliver's boyfriend, anymore. He was just a soul lost in fucking Wonderland. 

Oh, fuck. He laughed. He was so  _high._

'Connor ?'

He didn't even flinched, nor was he surprised. If he wasn't on ketamine, he would have freaked out and tried to hide the drugs. Or he would have said 'yeah, I'm alright. Coming in a second.'

Except he wasn't.

Wasn't that fucking awesome ?

'Connor, are you okay ?' Oliver asked again, his voice filled with worry. 'I heard you crying. Please answer me.' 

Connor blinked a few times, trying to focus on Oliver's voice, but it wasn't that easy. His mind kept drifting about how pink the toothbrush was. 

'I'm coming in', Oliver warned him. 

Someone opened the door, and Oliver stepped in the bathroom. 

'Ollie !' Connor greeted him, smiling. He was so happy to see his boyfriend. 'H-hey, babe.'  

Only one look at the scene in front of him made Oliver understand what was actually happening. 

'Are you fucking kidding me ?!' He shouted, furious. He went to his boyfriend and kneed next to him. 'Shit, you're bleeding !' He exclaimed. 

Connor frowns, and, with a superhuman effort, he raised his arm to bring his fingers to his nose. When he looked at them, he saw they were tainted with blood. A red, just like cherries, blood. 

'Oh' was only what he said. He was sincerely surprised. He didn't even feel his nose was bleeding. Maybe he didn't sniff well. Or he took to much drug. Anyway, it wasn't that much of a big deal, right ? His nose was just bleeding, he wasn't going to die. 

Oliver helped him standing up, before guiding him to the bedroom, and laying him down in the bed. Connor let him do, tired, and he was quickly circled with warming sheets. When he looked up, Oliver was staring at him with an unreadable expression. 

Connor hummed, comfortable. He raised his arms in Oliver's direction, his eyelids heavy. 

'Come cuddle me.' He weakly whispered, before letting his arms fall on the covers. Oliver seemed to hesitate, but, after a few seconds, he nodded and laid behind Connor, wrapping his arms around him. 

'We'll have to talk tomorrow, you get that ?' Oliver said to him in a exhausted voice. 

'Hmmh'

Connor felt like he was falling asleep. When the darkness finally surrounded him, he didn't fight. He felt Oliver against him one more time before being swallowed in a endless, black hole. 

He didn't think about what Oliver said to him. He didn't think about what he had done. He didn't think about Sam, or Annalise, or Wes or Rebecca or any of them. 

He didn't think of anything.

He didn't feel anything. 

 

_I'm so screwed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello ! Here is the second chapter of this fic, I hope you liked it ! I essentially wrote from what I've read on internet, but I do know a little what being high feels like (even if it's not something I'm proud of). I'll post the next chapter soon I hope. Bye !


	3. Chapter 3 : liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Oliver had some discussion over a certain bag of drugs. Asher sees something is off in Connor. Some depressed moments.

Connor woke up miserable and alone. The warm and comforting embrace at Oliver’s arms was gone, and the sheets next to him felt cold. He shivered and remembered everything that happened yesterday, even if it was a little blurry, and he felt so ashamed for being caught that he just wanted to burry himself under the covers and never get out of the bed. But he knew that he had to face Oliver, and that it wasn’t going to be pleasant. He suppressed a groan and slipped out of the bed. It took him a moment to regain his balance and to stop the world for spinning around him, but he managed to go to the living-room. 

He found Oliver behind the compter of the kitchen, wearing a closed expression and staring at the ground. Connor saw the little bag of ketamine put in front of him. Shit, he forgot to put it back in the air vent with the others after using it. 

He stayed up, leaning against the wall, his heart beating quickly, really quickly. He knew that Oliver’s silence meant nothing good. So he simply stood there, preparing himself for what was coming. 

He didn’t want to get in a fight with his boyfriend. He knew he had messed up, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty for doing that. Only for being caught. 

‘I thought you were clean’ Oliver finally said. He wasn’t yelling and showing his anger ; his voice was calm, low. 

Connor felt the the knot in his throat tighten. He was stuck in this infernal cycle of lies, and now he was so drowned in it that he couldn’t even get out of it. 

‘I-I know’ Connor answered, slightly shaking. ‘I’m sorry. It was just a one time thing, I...’

’ _stop lying to me !’_ Oliver snapped, suddenly angry. Connor flinched at his bursting. 

‘I’m not’ He tried to protest, but Oliver cut him right away. 

‘Then why is there a bottle of Adderall in the thrash ?’ 

 _Fuck,_ Connor thought. Why did he dump it like an idiot where Oliver would find it easily ? Oh yeah, right, he was so impatient about getting high that he forgot. He was such an idiot. 

‘And now you take drugs right in the room next to me ?’ Oliver exclaimed, pointed at the bag with disgust, ‘what is even it ? Cocaine ? Did you lose your mind ?’

’it’s ketamine’ Connor whispered, but Oliver glared at him and Connor found himself contemplating his feet. 

Oliver took the bag with a violent gesture and emptied it in the sink behind him. Connor bit his tongue to refrain himself for trying to stop him. He even let water make vanish every last traces of the white powder, as if he was afraid Connor would bench over and try to sniff the rest. Connor wasn’t that desperate ; he had two more bags hidden in the air vent. He knew that if Oliver found it, he was screwed, but he couldn’t imagine telling him about them and have to face all by himself the memories and the thoughts. 

No, drugs were his salvation, he knew that. And he didn’t care if Oliver, or everyone didn’t understand why. 

‘Did you even get help like you told me you did ?’ Oliver said. He seemed like he was lost and tired, like he didn’t know what to do anymore. 

And it hurt Connor. It hurt him so much more than the punch Sam Keating had thrown at him when he had tried to grab the thumb drive. Because he didn’t want Oliver to get involved in all his shit. Conne wanted him to be happy, not worried about him taking sometimes some drugs. But Oliver didn’t know that : he thought he had a drug addiction, because Connor had told him so, and Oliver believed him. 

It made Connor want to laugh. He was definitely the worst person even. 

‘Yes’ he lied and, unable to face Oliver, he stared at his hands. ‘I did, I swear, it’s just... I’m sorry. I don’t know why I took it.’

Why was he lying ? To spare Oliver for being hurt ? Or to spare  _himself_ for being hurt ?

’it’s just... I had a bad dream and I couldn’t stop thinking about it and... well you know.’ He mumbled pathetically.

He saw Oliver’s face soften, and took a step towards him. 

‘You should have wake me’ he said, gentle. Connor didn’t respond, he just hugged Oliver strongly to look more convincing. 

‘I’m not doing it again. Or at least I’m going to try, I promise’ he murmured against Oliver warm and soft skin. 

He sensed Oliver smiling. 

‘Okay’ he said. ‘I trust you.’

Connor wanted to throw up.

Because all he could think about was the two others bags in the air vent. 

 

***

Connor hated Annalise’s house more than anything. Almost even more than the house he used to live with his family before his father left. He couldn’t walk in the living-room without his chest burning like someone was ripping it open. He couldn’t sit there without seeing Sam Keating’s body, all bloody and still. 

Annalise said everything was going to be alright. She said she was going to protect them, and maybe Connor felt a little better that she knew what they did, that they didn’t have to hide it from her and that she didn’t hate them. She (and Wes and everyone) said Sam deserved it. That he had killed Lila, and was going to do the same with Rebecca. And with the rest of them, for what they knew. 

Strangely, it didn’t comfort him in any ways. 

Part of him still hesitate when he passed in front of the police station, knowing that he could just go there and tell everything to make it stop. Maybe jail would just be another hell, but at least he wouldn’t have to be paranoid and over react constantly about everything. 

 _Except he didn’t want to go to jail._ Not even because of the others Keating 5. Not even because of himself. 

Because he wanted to stay with Oliver. Desperately. 

It was pathetic. Oh, god, it was so ducking pathetic. Connor didn’t do boyfriends. Never. And yet the only thing stopping him to take the final step was a boy.

Or he was fooling himself with noble reasons and he was just terrified. 

 

***

He made them fail over a case. Even if Was and Laurel said it was okay and that they all should have seen the mistake, he wasn’t stupid. He could see how Annalise was on the verge of strangling him. 

The worst was the looks full of pity. Connor hated it. He didn’t need them to pity him. He left the audience room and locked himself in the toilets, and stayed in there, trying to calm his erratic breath, to hide the mess he had become.  _‘Where did the old Connor Walsh, the one who was the first to win the trophy, disappear ?’_ Had angrily said Annalise.  _‘Into all the blood on my hands’_ he wanted to answer. But he didn’t. 

A sob escaped from his lips, and he pulled thightly at his hair, trying to focus on the pain. Oh, fuck, why didn’t he take the drugs with him ? He wouldn’t be there, on the cold ground, trying desperately to found himself again in the darkness eating him. 

He didn’t. 

‘Connor ?’ Asher’s voice filled the toilets. Connor pressed a hand against his mouth, biting it to stop his breath and his cries. ‘You there, man ?’

Connir stayed silent, hoping Asher would go away, leave him alone, think that he wasn’t here. And not see that one of the doors was locked. 

Maybe if he would have, something could have been different. 

Or maybe not. Asher wouldn’t have understand. He wasn’t involved in all this shit, and it made Connor jealous. It made him want to be like douche face.

God, He was so messed up.

Oliver wasn’t home when Connor came back home. He sit on the couch, and thought about watching something on TV ; he ended up watching nothing.  He stayed in the living-room, not moving, staring blankly at the black screen. He started thinking how everyone’s life, especially his and Oliver, would be have been better without him. 

He was stuck in a so dark and depressed cloud that he stayed like that, listening to his heartbeats against the silence of the appartement and hoping they would stop. He felt like crying, but the emptiness inside his chest didn’t let the tears fall. 

Connor pretented to be asleep when Oliver came back. It was pathetic, and Connor wanted so bad to ask him to hold him tight, to cry and let it all go, but he didn’t. Because he knew that Oliver would want to talk about it (he always wanted to talk) and Connor couldn’t give him that. So, when Oliver checked if he was asleep, when he pulled a cover on him, Connor didn’t open his eyes.

Oliver kissed his cheek softly, and Connor had to take on himself to not do something stupid like cry. 

He heard Oliver go in the bedroom, changed and lay in the bed. Only then, he allowed the tears to flow on his skin. He choked out a silent sob, but kept quiet. 

He was better at this than ever, anyway. 

 

***

’Hey, where were you after the audience ?’ Asher asked, coming behind him. Connor was in Annalise’s house, making himself a cup of coffee. 

‘What ? Oh, I just went to Oliver’s and spent the night here’ Connor didn't talk about his break down in the toilets. 

‘Oh, okay’ Asher said ankwardly, and stood there without a word, until Connor finally turned to face him, annoyed. 

‘Look, Asher, what do you want ?’ Connor sighed. 

‘Just... you don’t seem really fine, you know’ Asher added, shifting to a foot to another. Connor wanted to laugh, but he was trying so much to be a better person, and laughing at him wasn’t really  nice. But still, Asher Millstone, asking about Connor’s feelings ? 

And he didn’t know why, but it made him angry.

‘Look, why do you even care ?’ Connor threw back nastily. ‘Don’t worry, you don’t need me to fail at the exams and lose the trophy.’

Asher’s face dropped right away. 

‘No, look, it’s not what...’ he tried to explain, rambling hesitantly, but Connor just sneered and passed over him.

He didn’t want to talk. To anyone. He didn’t want to talk to Waitlist, to Michaela Pratt, to Laurel or fucking Douche bag. 

He didn’t want to talk to _anyone_. 

Not even Oliver. 

_‘I don’t trust anyone in my life besides you.’_

He almost laughed, again. 

**_Liar._ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gaaaaaaaad I’m so impatient to see the new season of murder.  
> Connor hasn’t completely fell in his addiction and depression yet, but it’s for soon.  
> So what did you guys think about that chapter ? I hope you liked it ^^ I’ll post a new one next week !


	4. chapter four : everything is wrong with me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annalise wants to help Connor. Connor keeps pushing people away. The little bags make their return.

'can I join you ?'

Connor looked up from his phone, and, eyes furrowed to prevent himself for being blinded by the sun, he recognized Annalise. She was wearing a blue jacket over a white dress, and she was holding her bag in her hands. He hesitated for a second, not sure if he wanted to talk to anyone right now, but he nodded anyway. Annalise smiled, and sit on the bench next to him, putting her bag on her lap. Connor stayed silent for a moment, turning nervously his phone in his hands.

'I do that too, you know.' Annalise suddenly said without looking at him. Her gaze was focusing on the children playing on the grass. 

Connor watched her : the force, strong woman that, one day, he had wanted so desperately to look alike, that he wanted to work with. the same woman that ruined his life. Before, Connor admired her : how she would scare everyone with one look, how independent she was. Hell, how she would shut the mouth of everyone in the court was just incredible.  
And then, the bonfire happened. Wes fucking Gibbons and his girlfriend happened.

And now Connor was drowning. 

'Do what ?' He asked, a little annoyed, and not even sure he wanted to know this answer. 

'Closing myself off. punishing myself for something that wasn't my fault.' 

Connor snorted disdainfully. Oh, yeah, now he remembered : Annalise said they were both alike. Connor wanted to laugh at that. Even if, a few weeks sooner, he would have died to hear those words. 

'Yeah, you thing that's what I'm doing ? You're my teacher, not my fucking therapist'

'Perhaps you should get one' Annalise said calmly. 

This time, Connor laughed, incredulous. Was she fucking kidding him right now ? A fucking _therapist_ ?  
He couldn't believe what he just heard. 

'Excuse-me ?' He exclaimed, getting angrier and angrier. 

'I know how hard it is, to move on from what happened , and I don't ask you too, but...'

'Oh, and you think that talking to someone would help ?' Connor laughed again, almost hysterical.  'yeah, and then what ? The first time I open my mouth about the bonfire, you send Frank to take care of me ?'

He was screaming and standing on his feet now, and the people who were passing by sent him worried glances, but Annalise's face remained completely composed, like she wasn't impressed at all. 

'You should calm down' she said, slowly. 'I'm not threatening you, I just want to help you.'

'Well maybe I don't need your help' Connor spit back wickedly.

'And I think you need to grow up, mister Walsh, and stop hiding yourself like a child.'

'That's your advice ? "Grow up ?"' Connor said, voice tight, shaking and tears in his eyes, and he felt like all was suddenly too much. He shook his head and chuckled bitterly. 'Unbelievable' He let out. 'Well, fuck you' and then he was gone.

He walked through the streets of Philadelphia until he didn't know where he was anymore. He tried to remember how to breathe, he tried to not like the anger overtake him, but he felt  _so_ furious. How did she dare tell him what he should do ? It was all _her_ fault.  _Hers,_ and Wes's, and Connor suddenly wished he never went to Middleton Law School.

 

***

He didn't go to the office the rest of the afternoon. Obviously the others didn't care because they didn't send him texts. Connor was perfectly fine with it.  _Perfectly._ Right ? 

He just kept walking until his feet led him in front of Oliver's door, and he thought about how unfair it was. He shouldn't be with Oliver, he shouldn't hang at him like he was doing, because, soon or later, Connor would mess up what they had and ruin Oliver.

That's what he did. That's what he've always done. He destroyed people's lives.

And yet he couldn't stay away. Despite everything. Despite what spatula guy told him.

_"If you care_ _about the guy at all, don't ever come here."_

And, guess what ? Connor didn't. He showed up here, at three in the morning, sobbing and struggling and freaking his shit out. _Drowning._  And of course he couldn't resist from dragging Oliver down with him. 

Hell, even the others Keating-5 weren't that messed up. 

Connor pushed the door open and let his bag fall in the entrance. Oliver emerged at the sound from the bedroom, smiling.  _Happy._ And it made Connor sick and angry because he didn't want any happiness right now. He wanted everyone to feel a part of the awfulness inside him, to feel how miserable and depressed he was, to feel the same blood that  was on his hands. It was a  _so_ fucking selfish thought, but he didn't care at all. 

'hey, you're home soon' Oliver said, 'how was your day ?'

Connor didn't answer. He passed over Oliver, entering the bedroom, and took his shoes off, before going under the sheets, wrapping himself in and turning his back to Oliver. 

'wow' Oliver said, gently. 'that bad ?'

Connor closed his eyes and stayed silent. He was so tired, so tired to act normal, to get up in the morning, to go to Annalise's and face the others. he just wanted to buried himself under the covers in Oliver's appartient and never leave. 

'what happened ?' Oliver asked again, and it annoyed and angered Connor, because, _hell_ , he wanted to rest, not _talk_. 

'Jesus, can't you leave me alone ?' He snapped bitterly. 

There was a silent during a few seconds, like Oliver was registering his words.

'what is wrong with you ?' Oliver finally let out, his voice expressing the hurt of being rejected.

Connor felt the hot tears wet his cheeks and the pillow, but Oliver didn't see them.

_"_ _everything is wrong with me"_ he thought, and he had to swallow back the sobs.

He heard Oliver leave the room, closing the door behind him, and he bit his bottom lips until he felt blood in his tongue. 

And he couldn't even bring himself to care. What was a little of his blood compared to all the one that was on his hands ?

 

When he woke up, the remorses came crashing on him right away. 

Oliver had to be so mad at him for talking to him this way, while all Oliver tried was to help him and talk to him. 

Connor started wondering since when he had became so closed off.

Or, maybe Annalise was right and he was hiding himself from the truth. 

No. Connor wasn't going to let her confuse him with all her speeches and words. He wasn't going to let her control his life more than she already was.

He slipped out of the bed and went in the living-room : Oliver wasn't there.

'Ollie ?' Connor called, ready to apologize to his boyfriend, but no one answered. When he got behind the compter of the kitchen, there was a little note on the fridge.

 

**_Emergency at work, I had to go. We'll talk when I get back. Don't leave._ **

Connor contemplated the piece of paper and the elegant writing. Oliver always had a beautiful writing. 

But there wasn't anything beautiful in that note. It was cold, almost impersonal.

Yeah, Oliver was still mad at him. 

Connor wanted to call him and cry and beg him to forgive him, but he didn't. 

He also wanted to run. To leave the apartment to avoid another argument.

Because if Connor really had a problem, it wasn't with drugs, or sex.

If he really had a problem, it was with communication.

 

***

Okay, maybe he did have a little problem with drugs. Because he was there, sitting on the ground of the bathroom, looking blankly at the two little bags. 

The question wasn't even "do I take them ?". Even if he was a little hesitant because of his promise to Oliver. But, no, the most important question was "which one do I take ?"

He had made researches, this time. he already knew what cocaine did, so he mostly had look for the seventh heaven drug. And if most of the effects seems pretty nice, the second-sides looked not that nice. Unless cannibalism was something nice to you, of course. 

But, fuck it. Connor wasn't going to take too much of it. He didn't want to get high, he just wanted to be enough light-headed to survive the talk with Oliver. 

He inhaled deeply, and then he opened it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy so, the last time I posted was more than a week ago, and the first two episodes of murder season 4 were just incredible ! I'm so in pain for Connor, and for Laurel too because "where is my baby ?". (Even if I don't like how she is with Connor). Asher and Michaela are so cute too.


	5. chapter five : welcome to fucking wonderland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor does some "stuff" while being high. Some trigger warnings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

> **Cat Pierce - You belong to me**

 

Connor felt like everything was more colorful and shining. It was a little like the ketamine, but the effects were just one hundred more  _intense_. The tiredness and the sadness and the hopelessness were all gone, replaced by a wonderful feeling of  _being alive_. Like he should have been if everything was normal. 

And it was like deliverance, like salvation, like the freedom he was longing so much. Connor didn't forget to put the transparent bag back in the air vent, and it was funny ho everything was dizzy and blurry and bright. The ketamine felt like wonderland, then this felt like fucking heaven. 

Connor wanted to do a thousand things at the time. He wanted to run, to fuck, to dance, to do everything we could do in a life. He wanted to feel the awesome adrenaline that ran in his veins and his brain, he wanted to feel alive, he wanted to do something dangerous, to laugh, to show his middle finger to the world and just do what he liked. 

He giggled, he laughed until his stomach hurt, and then he left the bathroom to go in the living room. He turned on himself until he couldn't even stand on his feet and then he opened the window, and, feeling a bit bold, he leaned over the edge.

'Fuck you, Annalise !' He shouted, and it felt so fucking good to finally say that to the world without fear. 'Fuck you, Wes, fuck you, Rebecca fucking Sutter !!'. His heart was beating madly into his chest, but it wasn't from fear, or stress, or painful beatings, it was just pure adrenaline. He closed his eyes and let the fresh air caress his face, and then, after inhaling strongly, he screamed 'Fuck you, Sam Keating ! Fuck you all !'. 

'Fuck you !' Someone yelled back, annoyed, but Connor just laughed and offered him his middle finger. Fuck, it felt so fucking awesome. 

'Connor ?'

He turned away from the window to face a surprised and worried Oliver. Oliver's bag was hanging from his shoulder, and he was wearing a suit, and he looked so freaking handsome. 

Connor smiled and advanced towards him. He was feeling like a child, but he was so happy. 

'Ollie !' He exclaimed. 'I'm so glad to see you'.

Oliver's eyebrows furrowed even more. 

'uh... Me too ? What were...' He started, but Connor put a finger on his lips, stopping him from talking. 

'shhhh' he said. He kissed him on the lips, briefly, then stared at him. 'Did I ever tell you you were beautiful ?'

Oliver seemed more lost than ever, so Connor kissed him again, with more conviction and with more fierce, and Oliver opened the lips to let him the access. Their tongues met, and Connor felt like he was burning, like touching Oliver, pressing his body against his was making explode in millions of warm sparks. He pulled the bag of Oliver's shoulder, letting it fall to the ground, and pinned him against the wall. He broke away, staring at him, memorizing every curb of Oliver's face, even if he was dying to feel  _more._

'What are you looking at ?' Oliver asked, out of breath. Connor started kissing his neck as an answer. 

'I'm never going...' Connor said, before biting at the soft skin, 'getting tired of you.' He took Oliver's jacket off, throwing it away, and ripped his shirt open. 

He traced a line of hot kisses and bites on his chest, along his belly, and Oliver's groans sent waves of pleasure through his body. God, it felt like every sensation was overwhelming him, and Connor melted into it, craving for more. 

He dropped to his knees, and put Oliver's pants and boxers down. Oliver cracked an eye open to see what he was doing, and immediately closed them and slammed his head back against the wall, panting heavily, when Connor took his cock into his mouth. 

'fuck, Connor' Oliver sighed, crisping his fingers into Connor's hair. Connor started sucking him consciously and slowly, watching Oliver groaning and arching his back against him. Connor wanted badly to fuck him, but torturing Oliver and seeing him this way, his all body begging for more, was just ecstatic.

And Connor, justly, was high.

He pulled back before Oliver could come, and, standing up, he whispered to him, putting his palm subjectively on his torso :

'fuck me'

Oliver pushed him on the couch and kissed him roughly, pulling at his hair, and Connor groaned in pleasure. He felt like he was burning from all his senses, the feeling of Oliver's erection rubbing against his, the feeling of Oliver's warm lips on his own, the feeling of his hands touching him, sending sparkles of warmth and pleasure everywhere, the feeling...

Oliver. Oliver.  _Oliver._

Ah, fuck. That was so good. 

But it was taking to much time, Connor wanted Oliver to fuck him  _now,_ he wanted to feel more, he wanted to be consuming by all the pleasure. He gripped Oliver's tights and flipped them off, sitting on his lap. Oliver looked at him, staring at him, surprised, like he was going to say something, but Connor cut him by standing and sinking on his cock. He let out a long groaned, overwhelmed by everything, by the feeling of Oliver inside him, and he was for a moment blinded by the pleasure. He threw his head back, breathing erratically. Oliver was panting and grabbing his waist tightly, planting his nails into his skin. Connor rolled his hips against Oliver's, moaning, and, holding Oliver's shoulders to support himself, he sped the pace, craving for more, and more, and more. 

Oh, God, how did sex manage to be so good ?

He opened his eyes to look at Oliver, to memorize every curb of his face, but suddenly, Oliver's eyes widened.

'Fuck, your pupils are huge, are you high ?' He exclaimed. 

Connor was completely taken aback by the question. He didn't expect Oliver to question him about it while they were _fucking_ screwing, and he didn't expect him to remark either. 

'uh... No ?' He said, and he realized how much he didn't sound convincing at all. Ah, shit. 

'Are you fucking kidding me right now ?' Oliver yelled, pushing Connor off him. He seemed furious, and Connor felt his heart pounding madly into his chest, but the adrenaline was long gone. Oliver stood up, and dressed himself quickly. 

Connor was high, and it had been just wonderful, but now he was coming down from it and everything felt awful. Thirty minutes, internet had said, thirty minutes for the effects to drop. Now the world was blurring and undulating and twirling, and all the feelings he craved before were now fucking hurting. They were overwhelming, rushing into him, eating him. 

'You promised me you wouldn't get high here again, and now what ? You try to have sex with me while on drugs ?! What the hell is wrong with you, Connor !' Oliver screamed. 

Connor stood up, but his legs were shaking violently, and he tried to reach for Oliver. 'No, Ollie, look...'

'God, get dressed !' Oliver said, full of disdain, and Connor flinched. 

'I'm sorry' Connor begged, but Oliver wasn't listening to him. 

'I can't believe you did this !' He said again, angry, and he started going out, and Connor started panicking.  _No, no, no, don't leave me._

'Don't leave me' he whispered, desperately. He felt like he was exhausted, like he was falling into an endless and dark pit, leading directly to hell, and there was nothing he could hang on to stop himself.

'Connor ?' Oliver's voice seemed to come from a long, long tunnel. Oliver was too far from him.

'Don't leave me', he repeated, and everything went black. His heart was beating against his chest, like a regular and yet awful drum, and Connor didn't know what to do. The panic was overwhelming him, filling his lungs by anxiety, and it was just  _too much._

When his vision cleared again, Oliver wasn't there. But he wasn't alone. 

Connor tried to run away, but he tripped and fell back on the ground. He was shaking too much to do anything.

Sam Keating was standing in front of him, his face covered in blood, his eyes glassy, but looking directly at him, accusing. 

And Connor was fucking terrified, and he didn't understand what was happening. 

'No, _no_ , you're _dead_ , you're dead' He stuttered, horrified. 'You're dead, I'm just becoming crazy, _you're dead !_ '

Thousands of figures looking exactly like him, all accusing and bleeding, appeared around him, surrounding him, whispering things he didn't understand, he didn't  _want_ to understand, he just wanted it to stop, _please, make it stop..._

He pressed his palms against his hears to cover their voices, and he closed his eyes with all of his strength, curled up on himself, like it would stop them from hurting him. He sobbed, shaking uncontrollably, begging for Oliver, _anyone_ to help him. 

Please make them go away. 

Please make them go away.

_Please make them go away._

**_Please make them go away._ **

'Connor ! Connor, please, look at me. It's okay, just... Focus on me, focus on my voice. Connor !' 

Oliver. It was Oliver's voice. He was here. He was here, he was going to protect him, he was going to make them go away. He was  _here._

'I'm here, I'm here, okay ?' Oliver's voice wavered. 'I... Focus on me. It's going to be okay. I'm sorry, I'm not going to leave you. It's okay.'

He felt tears on his cheeks and hands on his face, and then Oliver was in front of him, holding him. Connor cried, sobbing awfully, almost choking, and he felt like someone was planting a knife in his heart and turning, and turning, and fucking turning, until his chest was just a bloody mess. His ears were awfully whistling.  
Things around him finally became clearer, and he saw how scared Oliver seemed. Then, he looked down at himself, and he saw that he had red scratches all over his arms, and probably on his face and neck. What did he do ?

'Ollie', he lets out, voice hoarse, like he had screamed. 'Ollie'. He stretched out his arms in his direction, and Oliver immediately pressed Connor against him, squeezing hard. Connor lets his head rest into the crook of his neck, cold tears flowing quietly, and he cried without a sound, shoulders shaking from the silent sobs. Seventh heaven drugs. It was supposed to felt like it. It was supposed to feel like there were a big sign with " ** _welcome to fucking wonderland_** " written on it. 

But somehow something went wrong and now he's tasting blood in his mouth. _Seventh heaven drugs. What a joke._

He closed his eyes, and even if it was just Oliver and him, he kept feeling Sam Keating's eyes looking at him.

 

***

 'Is that where you went yesterday ? To your dealer ?'

Connor jumped in surprise, but Oliver's fingers in his hair calmed him. He was laying on the couch, his head on Oliver's lap. Oliver didn't ask any questions after Connor finally stopped crying, he just made him lay down with him and caressed his hair. But Connor knew they were going to talk. 

'what ?' Connor asked, not understanding.

'yesterday. I called Michaela this morning to ask her what upset you, and she said you didn't show up to the office. Did you go buy drugs ?' Oliver said, eyes furrowed.

'No' Connor answered, shaking his head. 'I... It's not where I went.'

'Where do you hide your drugs ?' 

This question took Connor completely out of his guard. 

'What ?' He repeated, surprised. 

'Your drugs, I know you must be hiding it somewhere in here.' Oliver said calmly. 

'Not... Not here' Connor whispered, afraid that he did speak louder, Oliver would know it was a lie.

It didn't work. 

'I'm not stupid, Con'. Look, I... I just want to help you. Did you not see what happened ? You  _scared_ me, Connor. You were losing your freaking mind, saying incoherent things, screaming and hurting yourself. I can't... I can't handle it. So, just tell me where they are.' Oliver begged, and it was painful, so fucking painful to hear the despair in his voice. Connor screwed things up, like every time. 

'I... It...' Connor started saying, but his voice died in his throat, and he stayed silent. He didn't know what to do. If he told Oliver, he would throw the bags into the sink, and even if Connor knew it was the right thing, he didn't want to. 

'Connor, you need help. So, just... Let me. Tell me where it is'. 

Connor closed his eyes, tears burning his eyelashes. God, why was it so hard ? 

'Bathroom, under the sink, in the air vent.' He chokes out, trying desperately to not break down in sobs. 

It wasn't even like in the movies or the books. Telling the truth didn't lift the burden on his shoulders. It stayed  _exactly_ the same. If not worse. 

He barely felt the warmth of Oliver's lips on his forehead. Oliver stood up, and Connor heard him going him in the bathroom, and looking for the drugs. 

He just kept staring at the wall in front of him.

He just kept feeling _dead_ on the inside.

_Welcome to fucking wonderland._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is the fourth chapter ! What did you think ?  
> Sorry if it was a hard one for you to read, I really spent a lot of time writing it to express the feelings and put the right words on it.  
> Did you see the third episode ? The ending is so sad, et oh my god Connor has two gay dads *.*


	6. chapter six : do I ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor doesn't want to talk. Welcome to a new character. Hello again Finn.

Connor made his way into the living-room of Annalise's house : her office was closed, but he could hear her and Frank argue inside, perhaps about the next murder they were planning, and Connor would be more than glad to suggest the future victims (Wes, Rebecca, Annalise and his fucking headache, for the record). 

Michaela was the only one present. She was leaning over her books and notes, murmuring incoherent things and chewing her pen. She was so concentrated on what she was reading that she didn't look up until Connor let himself fall back on a chair ; but when she did, her eyes widened in shock. 

'God, you look awful ! What the hell happened to your face ?' She exclaimed. Connor rolled his eyes. 

'Always so nice, Pratt' he mocked, sarcastic.

'No, seriously, did you pass under a train or something ? Because you look like you did.' She stared at him for a second, like she was trying to figure out, and then disgust and horror appeared on her face. 'Oh my god, don't tell me you and Oliver are into this kind of thing...'

Connor sighed, annoyed. 'First of all, Michaela, my sex life with Oliver - even if it's absolutely amazing - is also absolutely none of your concern, and secondly, just... just drop it, okay ?' 

Michaela looked at him a moment, before returning to what she was doing, and Connor felt relief in his chest. Michaela giving up, it was... surprising. 

The others arrived a few minutes later, and when they saw Connor's face, they were a little startled. Asher opened his mouth to talk, but Connor glared at him and he kept quiet. In fact, they all kept quiet about it, not making any comments, but Connor could feel their eyes on him when they thought he wasn't paying attention. 

Annalise drowned them under work, as always, and Connor was sure he would've have killed to have some Adderall right now, or whatever drugs. His headache was awful, and getting worse, and advil was shitty. 

It didn't get any better when he received a text from Oliver. 

 ** _Hey, can you come home a little sooner ? I want_**   ** _you to meet someone._**

Fuck. Connor really hoped Oliver didn't call Gemma or his mother and make them come. Or, worst, his father. (That was silly, Oliver didn't know anything about Connor's father). He didn't want to meet anybody, god, he just wanted to lay down and sleep, because it felt like he didn't for years. 

At five p.m., Connor left Annalise's house and drove to Oliver's appartment. When he opened the door, he heard Oliver's voice and a woman's. He went into the living-room, and saw his boyfriend and the said-woman sitting on the sofa. Oliver looked up and smiled when he saw Connor stepping inside. 'Hey' he greeted him with a kiss on his cheek. 'Connor, this is Kimberly Dane.' Connor nodded politely at the woman. She had long dark hair curling on her shoulders, golden skin and deep brown eyes, but there was something a little cold in her, that didn't make Connor really comfortable. 'She's a therapist' Oliver added, dropping the bomb, and Connor didn't even have the time to hide. 

He froze immediately.

'excuse-me ?' He let out. Oliver sighed, and turned to their guest. 'Give us a moment' he said, before grabbing Connor by the arm and taking him in the bedroom. 

Connor was furious. So, that was the person Oliver wanted him to meet ? A fucking therapist ? 

'Dare to explain ?' Connor said when Oliver closed the door behind them. He crossed his arms on his chest, waiting, angry, and stared at Oliver. Oliver didn't flinch. 'I don't need a therapist. I told you, I already get help !' 

'And I know you lied. I called the campus, Connor. Your name isn't on any appointment with _any_ counsellor.' Oliver answered, calm. 'And if you did get help, you wouldn't be there, getting high everytime I turn my back.'

Connor wanted to break something. He wanted to punch a wall until he was bleeding, he wanted to let go of all his anger and his frustration. He wanted to run away, to cry and scream. He _hated_ therapy. More than anything. 

'Oh, you're spying on me, now ?' Connor almost screamed. He knew it was unfair, to blame Oliver to try to make him guilty, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to talk to anyone. And especially not to a therapist. 

'I'm not, and you know it, Connor ! I'm worried about you, and just asking you to try, okay ?' Oliver said. 'Please'. 

Connor closed his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths. In and out. One. Two. Three. Four. 

His heart stopped racing in his chest, and he threw a dead look at Oliver before coming back in living-room. He sat in front of the therapist. A uncomfortable silence followed, until Oliver announced 'Well... I'm leaving you two alone'. He and Kimberly shared a smile, but when he tried to kiss his cheek, Connor turned his head to the other side. 

He ignored the hurt expression on Oliver's face before he left, and then it was only him and Kimberly Dane. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, like she was decrypting every move he' en done, every emotion he've showed. Like he was a difficult problem she tried to solve. 

'He cares about you' she finally said. Connor refused to face her and kept staring at the wall behind her. 'Yeah', he let out, bitterly. _But he can be a pain in the ass,_ he thought. 

'You don't want to be here', Kimberly added. This time, Connor didn't answer. 

She sighed. 'You'll have to talk to me if you want me to help you, Connor'. 

'Well I don't need your help' Connor spit back. 'I'm perfectly fine, okay ?' 

'Oliver told me you have a drug problem'. 

'I don't have one !' He exploded. 'I'm fine, I fucking told you !' 

A long silence followed his burst of anger. Kimberly was staring at him calmly, but emotionlesss. 'Them how do you explain your breakdown from yesterday ?'

Connor opened his mouth, surprised. His heart was beating against his ears. 'It wasn't...'

'It was the drugs, I know' Kimberly cut him. 'Oliver's told me you two were intimate, and when Oliver realised you were in drugs, he pushed you away and you started shaking, hurting yourself, begging him not to leave you and repeating someone is dead.' 

Connor couldn't stand her eyes, he couldn't stand someone looking at him when all his walls were so weak, so close to be destroyed and exposing him. He couldn't stand remembering what happened yesterday. 

'Who's dead, Connor ?' She asked him, gently. He felt tears burning in his eyes. He didn't want to talk about it. He grabbed a pillow and squeezed it against his stomach. He felt sick in the inside, like something was eating him slowly and painfully. 

As she didn't receive any answer, she asked again 'did you experience a loss recently ?'

'No', Connor lied, still incapable to face her, but the tears were consuming him, threatening to fall. 

'In the past ?' She insisted. Connor stayed silent, he didn't want to talk, about anything, and he hated her, and Oliver, for forcing him to. 

'Connor ?' She called him in a soft tone, but Connor just clenched his fists on the pillow and refused to look at her. 'Connor', she repeated. 

He was drowning. He was falling into the darkness, and there wasn't anything for him to grasp, to stop him. Oliver wasn't stopping him. He was trying, but he couldn't. 

Connor was drowning. 

_Alone._

_***_

Oliver came back just two minutes before the therapist left, and Connor suspected them to exchange informations. Fuck, what was going on ? It wasn't supposed to happen that way. It wasn't supposed... 

Connor wanted to forget. He wanted to be back in his old self, when the only thing he desired was having sex and be on the top of his class. And get a fucking trophy. 

He wanted it so much that he almost started to cry, but he forced himself not to, not in front of Oliver, who would be serving this against him the next time with a therapist. God, when did he become so paranoid ? Oliver was supposed to be on his side. Connor was supposed to be able to trust him. 

That was before he called a therapist. 

 _You never trusted him,_ said a little and vicious voice in his head, _otherwise you would have told him about Sam Keating._

'So ?' Oliver asked him, smiling, 'how was it ? Did you talk to her ?'

Connor couldn't look at him. He couldn't face him anymore. He was so disgusted with himself, for lying, for not being able to trust someone. He stood up, putting his hands in his pockets to hide how much he was shaking. 

'I need to be alone right now.' He just said, and he didn't even recognise his own voice. It was like he was off, _dead._

Oliver's face dropped, and Connor felt his heart tightening painfully in his chest. 'Connor', Oliver said, almost despairetely. 

'I... I need to breathe', and, incapable to stay any longer, he walked to the door and got out of the apartment. He was shaking incontrolably, and he wanted to scream. He felt bad for leaving Oliver, when he was only trying to help, but Connor was getting tired of this. He was getting tired of everything. 

He needed it to stop. At least for a moment. 

When he was inside his car, alone, he yelled and hit the steering wheel until he didn't have any voice and his hands were all numb and aching. He took his phone out of his jeans and typed quickly a text to Asher. 

**_If Oliver asks you, tell him I'm with you, ok ?_ **

He didn't wait for an answer and opened another conversation. 

**_Can we meet in five minutes ?_ **

 

Finn was already there when Connor arrived in the alley. He climbed next to the other and closed the door a little too strong. Finn arched an eyebrow ; he was smoking what smelt strangely like weed. 

'Trouble in paradise ?' He asked. 

'Don't even start', Connor answered darkly. 

'No problem' Finn said. 'So... did you try what I gave you ?' 

'Yes. Can you give me more ? And Adderall, also.'

Finn nodded, and, stucking his joint between his teeth, he started searching in his bag, before handing him two bottles of Adderall.

'You want more of which one ?' He asked.

'ketamine, and cocaine.' Connor answered. _Not the seventh heaven drug. Never that one._ 'You got ecstasy ?'

'Who do you think I am ?' Finn laughed. 'Of course I have ecstasy.', and he gave him two bags of white powder and another bottle of pills. Connor looked at them for a moment, then hid them in his pocket and paid Finn. 

He got out of the car, and started leaving the alley, when he heard Finn call him. He turned back to him. Finn was passing his head through the window. 

'If you ever need to get laid, call me', Finn just told him. 

'I have a boyfriend' Connor reminded him, a little uncomfortable. He hoped it wouldn't stop Finn to sell him his stuff. 

There was a little silence, before Finn said :

'do you ?', and with that, he closed the window and started his car. Then, he was gone.

And Connor was left alone in the dark alley, more insecure than ever. 

 

***

 

When he got back to Oliver's apartment, he found every light off, and Oliver in the bedroom, under the covers, seeming asleep. Connor took of his shoes, his clothes and put a sweater and clean boxers on him, before laying down besides Oliver. 

Suddenly, Oliver turned to face him. 'God, you're here', Oliver whispered, relieved. 

'I'm sorry' Connor answered miserably, before furrowing his nose. 'You smell vodka. Are you drunk ?' 

'Yep', Oliver said. 'Then maybe I'll become alcoholic and I'll finally understand you.'

It was so sad, so painful that Connor hid his face into his hands. 'I'm sorry' He choked out, sobbing. 'I'm so sorry.'

Oliver's hands caressed softly his hair. 'It's okay' he murmured. 'I love you'.

Connor just cried harder, but Oliver was already asleep, and Connor was left alone again, in the darkness of the room, more _depressed_ than ever. 

 _Do you ?_ Had said Finn. 

He was starting to ask himself the same question.

**_Do I ?_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe Connor's dad told this, he's such a jerk ! Fuck now Connor is all insecure... but I think it's gonna be interesting for him and Ollie...  
> and Ollie is the witness ! Oh my gooooooood  
> What did you think of this chapter ? Do you like Kimberly and Finn ?


	7. chapter seven : it feels like nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is still angry at Oliver for the therapist, he's being a dick to everyone, and keeps spiraling down. It has consequences.

'Okay, that's enough. You've been ignoring me for weeks now, you don't even say more than three words to me, and you barely look at me.'

Connor froze a second, stopping to cut the vegetables, before returning to it. Oliver sighed behind him, but Connor's fingers tightened around the knife. He knew Oliver would have enough of this, that he would try to have a fucking discussion, but Connor was fine not talking to him. Because he could get used to the fact that Oliver always wanted to talk and help him, but not the fact that he called a  _fucking_ therapist, behind his back, and trapped him in coming home.

Suddenly, the knife was removed from his hands, and Connor looked up, facing Oliver, who was obviously trying really hard to not get angry. But Connor was, and he wanted Oliver to know it, to understand how much he felt betrayed. So why,  _why_ did he have this sick feeling inside his chest, like some dark cancer eating him slowly, until he'd just die ?

'Connor, talk to me !' Ollie exclaimed, almost begging. 'What do you want me to say ? "Sorry, for wanting to help you" ?'

'Yes !' Connor yelled back, finally reacting. 'Trust, does that mean anything to you ? It looks like you don't, because, if you did, you wouldn't have called a  _fucking therapist behind my back !_ '

' _Trust_?' Oliver laughed, bitterly. 'You're talking to me about trust ? When you're the one hiding drugs under the sink and taking them every time I turn my back ? Is that what's trust for you ?'

'I already said I wouldn't do it again', Connor replied, gritting his teeth. The anger was scolding in his stomach, threatening to explode. 

'Yeah, well, I don't believe you ! You already made that promise twice, and, guess what ? You broke it !' Oliver yelled. 'You completely lost your shit  _right in front of me_ , Connor ! What did you want me to do ? Do nothing ?'

'Something other than calling a therapist', Connor answered, and Oliver took his face into his hands, letting out a sharply, sobbing breath. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. 'I can't do this, Con. I thought I could, but... You're making things difficult. I can't support this, okay ?', Oliver said in a tearing and pained voice. 

'So, that's it ?', Connor said, shaking, his voice raspy. 'You're breaking up with me ? It's what takes you to give up on me ?'

'You think I want to ?' Oliver snapped. 'I  _love_ you, okay ? I love you, but I can't just, sit tight and watch you destroy yourself. That's above what I can take.'

'Okay', Connor said, calmly, before wiping his face. 'Okay', he repeated, trying his best not to let everything crash onto him and make him cry. He thought he would make Oliver feel guilty, make him apologize, and they'd live happy ever after. Not that Oliver would break up with him.  _No, no, no, this isn't supposed to happen._

It seemed like a lot things weren't supposed to happen, but happened anyway. Connor never expected his life to slip so much out of control. 

'You're an asshole, you know that ?', Connor managed to say, throwing everything that was on the counter - glasses, plates, food - to the ground, and storming out of the apartment.

He climbed into his car, and stayed like that, anger waving into him violently, until he just couldn't contain himself anymore and let his rage flow. ' _Fuck !_ ', he yelled.  _'FUCK !_ '. 

He was fucking losing his mind, exactly like Oliver said. It was his fault. No, it was Annalise's, for messing with his life like it meant nothing, like destroying his like was okay. 

He opened the glove box, and took Adderall and ecstasy out of it. He shifted two of each in his hand and swallowed them dry, not caring that it hurt his throat. It felt good, when the effects started taking over, when his mind started feeling foggy. He knew it was dangerous, to mix pills like that, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He felt angry. God, he felt  _so_ angry. Angry at Annalise, at Wes and his girlfriend, at Michaela fucking prom queen, at Frank, at Oliver, at himself, and at the whole fucking world for working that way. 

At this moment, overdosing because he took too much pills didn't seem that bad. 

 

***

'Hey', Connor said when Gemma opened the door. Her eyes widen, and she pressed a hand on her mouth, looking shocked. 

'Oh my god, Connor !' She exclaimed. 'What are you doing here ? You should've told me you were coming ! And, oh my god, what are they doing to you in that college ? You look fucking awful !'. 

'Okay, stop, you're really starting to sound like mom', Connor said, trying to joke, but it felt bitter on his tongue, like he was tasting ashes. Maybe he was. Maybe he had burnt. 'I'm not kidding, what are you doing here ? It's not spring break yet !'. 

'I...', Connor hesitated, scratching at his neck anxiously. 'I needed a break, you know. Don't tell mum I'm here'

'Oh', was all Gemma said, furrowing. 'Your... Your boss's okay with that ?'

'She doesn't know. Yet', Connor replied, and Gemma let him in, closing the door behind him and guiding him to the couch, where they sat down. She put a arm around his shoulders. Connor let out a sharply breath, trying to control his emotions, but he wasn't controlling anything anymore. 

'What's wrong, little brother ?', Gemma asked in a low voice, soft and worried. 

Connor put his face in his hands, trying to fight back the sobs, and tears flew down his cheeks. 'I just... I don't know what I'm doing anymore. God, I'm just so lost.'

'Hey...'Gemma said, squeezing his shoulder, and caressed his hair gently. Connor inhaled deeply. 'It's okay, little brother. Everything's going to be fine again, I promise.'

'It won't', Connor sobbed, shaking his head. 'Oliver broke up with me', he added, whispering. She stared at him, surprised. 'What ? Why ?'

'I... It's complicated', Connor answered. 'I haven't been doing great lately, and... He called a therapist, without telling me, and we got into an argument, and... Here I am.'

'I'm so sorry, Connie', Gemma said, hugging him tightly. 

'Stop calling me that', Connor replied, and she laughed. 

 

***

Connor was sitting on the bed of Gemma's guest room, smoking a mix of cocaine and ketamine (he didn't even know he could do that, but it felt good), playing on his phone, when it buzzed, announcing a text from Michaela. 

**_Where the hell are you ? You're an hour late ! I know Oliver and you love each other very much, but if you're late because you two are fucking, I'm going to rip your bowls off !_ **

Connor laughed, amused, and received another message, from Laurel, this time. 

_**Michaela is freaking out. In fact, we're all, so can you get your ass here ?** _

It went silent for a while, and Connor enjoys being high, until it buzzed again, and again, and again. 

_**Oliver broke up with you ? Wtf man !** _

_**What happened with Oliver ?** _

**_We called Oliver to ask him why you were late, and he told us you left last night, and that he didn't see you since then, and YOU TWO BROKE UP WHY_ **

Connor smiled, but that wasn't a happy smile. It was funny, seeing all this texts, but fucking painful. Because Oliver didn't even send him a text yet, to see if he was okay. In fact, none of them did.  _Is it so hard to care ?_

He was his phone lighten another time. Connor frowned, taking the call, and pressing the phone to his ear. 

'hellooooo ?', he said, pushing on the "o". 

'It's Annalise.'

He sighed, letting himself fall back onto the pillows. 'Ah', he just let out, a little disappointing. 'Shit'. 

'Like you said', Annalise answered. 'What are you doing, Connor ?'

'Connor ? I thought you called me Mister Walsh'.

'This isn't funny. The others won't stop saying that you disappeared since last night because your boyfriend dumped you', Annalise answered, firmly. 

'He did. That's true', Connor approved. 

'Where are you ? I can send one of them take you', Annalise proposed. 

'Well, if they're ready to drove until Michigan, I'm not against it', Connor laughed. 

There was a pause, before Annalise asked : 'You're in Michigan ?'

Connor giggled. 'Yup'. 

'Are you drunk, or something ?'. 

'High, to be honest. That's right,  _Mum,_ one of your glorious fucking Keating Five is a  _fucking_ junkie', and he hung up, shaking from the head to the feet. He threw his phone to the wall, and crushed his joint on the plate, before slipping into the covers and curling up under them, seeking comfort into the warmth of his hideout. 

That was it. 

He was a drug addict. Exactly like Oliver said. 

 

***

'Connor ?', a voice called, and the door opened, letting Gemma's face appeared. Connor groaned. 'Leave me alone, Gem. Just... Go away.'

'There's someone for you on the phone', Gemma explained, and came inside the room, putting her phone next to him before going out. Connor sighed heavily, before taking the phone and putting it against his ear. Why this obsession with calling him, now ?

'Connor, it's Michaela'

'Okay, I think I'm going to hang up', Connor said, ready to press the button. 'Wait, wait !' She exclaimed, sounding panicked. 'Please don't hang up on me, okay ? I just want to talk to you'. 

' _Right_. If you're wondering, I did not cheat on Oliver, no.'

'I don't care about this, okay ? I'm worrying about you. Annalise didn't want to tell us what you said to her, but she seemed pretty angry and concerned. What did you do ?'

'First, don't need to worry, or send Frank to kill me, I didn't turn you out. Second, I... I'm not planning on coming back soon, alright ? I just need some time.'

'It's because of Sam, isn't it ?', Michaela asked. 'Why you broke up with Oliver. It's because of this ?'

'In part', Connor admitted, closing his eyes. It was the first time he and Michaela talked without arguing, or teasing viciously each other. For the first time, they talked like... Friends would do. 

'Okay. I'll... Tell the others to leave you alone, then. Just know that... I'm worrying about you, Connor. We're all worrying about you', and, with those words, she ended the call. 

Connor laid there, without moving, staring at the ceiling. He wondered if she was telling the truth. Wondered If he disappeared tomorrow, if any of them would give a shit. 

And, strangely, having this king of scary thoughts, it felt like nothing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god, the fifth episode of this season was just so... Emotional ** ! First, Connor who almost cheated on Oliver, and came to Annalise instead, and Annalise and Bonnie story... I just cried, ok, because Liza Weil is a fucking perfect actress. Seriously, it was one of the best episodes I ever saw.  
> Also, sorry for this late chapter (I try to post every sunday or at worse monday), so I hope you liked this one ^^  
> Happy Haloween


	8. chapter eight : why don’t you leave me ?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is fine, until it isn’t.

> _MY LUNGS ARE FILLED WITH ANXIETY BUT I BREATH OUT ROSES TO HIDE THE PAIN YOU CAUSED_

 

It has been almost one week, now, that Connor has been staying at Gemma's house. It was a nice house, big, with a garden, but that wasn't the reason Connor was staying. He wasn't ready to come back to Philadelphia yet. Or, yet, he was afraid about even thinking of it. He was afraid to face Annalise, and Oliver. He was afraid to realize that they really broke up, and that he'd have to find somewhere to sleep.

Or you could just take all your pills and die.

Also, one of the reasons why Connor was still in Michigan, was because Gemma would let him alone all day because of her job, and he could have the entire house just for himself. He could smoke, drink, take drugs, there was no one to stop him, and that, that was what he was craving.

To be alone.

That wasn't normal, because he usually hated loneliness. Worse than romance, but, hell, he has (had ?) a boyfriend, now. Boyfriend who probably broke up with him, because Connor was becoming a fucking junkie. Great. That was great.   
How did everything become so... messed up so quickly ? They were doing fine (as fine as you can be when you killed someone), and then... And then Finn gave him others drugs than Adderall, and that's where everything went down. Because, even if Connor already took Adderall, it wasn't strong enough to be noticeable. It wasn't, but ketamine and fucking seventh heaven drug were. They were, and that was exactly why things got bad between them.

But, at least, no one noticed anything here. Gemma would leave at nine in the morning, and only come back at eight p.m. So all he had to do was getting high when he was sure he wouldn't still be when she would be home. Gemma didn't try to force him to talk - who he was really grateful for that - she would just smile at him and they would sit on the couch with whatever they were eating and watch tv, just like when they were children.

Michaela sent him every day the notes she took during class or explained him what they did at Annalise's office, and if someone had said to Connor one day that prom queen would share her notes with him... Well, that was a new one.

Maybe this little break from everyone and school was making him a bit better. Or maybe not. Only if you think taking drugs every whole day is an improvement.

But, really, it wasn't that bad. He didn't have any hallucinations, or any bad reaction, he would just... Feel light-headed, laugh alone and that was it. The coming-down wasn't awful ; he just felt numb and foggy. Slightly depressed, maybe, but better be slightly depressed than really depressed, like he would be if he didn't take drugs.

He knew what he was doing wasn't good, he knew it was destroying him in an horrible way, but he couldn't stop. Not now.

 

***

 

Opening the bottle, take six pills, put them in the mouth, take some water and swallow it. Three Adderalls, three ecstasy. Easy.

At first, it felt like the world was spinning around him, faster and faster, until his feelings got caught inside of it. When it stopped, the pain, the ache had disappeared. He didn't feel happy, like all his problems were solved and inexistant, but that was closed to it, because his mind was too foggy to remember that, no, his problems were far for being solved.

But this time, something was different. The world was spinning around him without slowing down, and his head was staring to burn awfully. He winced, rubbing his temples, hiding his face in his pillow. It shouldn't be hurting like that. It shouldn't, right ?

He should call Gemma, or 911, or someone, not stay curled up on the ed, waiting for everything to get better. Or worse. Connor couldn't say what he'd prefer. 'I can't do this', Oliver had said. 'I can't watch you destroying yourself'. It was Connor's fault. Everything was always Connor's fault. He thought Oliver would forgive him everything no matter what, because they love each other, but obviously not this time. This time, he chose the easy way, and ran away from him. And it made Connor angry, because he could've done the exact same thing months ago, when Oliver told him he was positive. Except he didn't. He didn't, and now he was the one hiding away in his sister's home. Trying to determine if he had taken too many pills. Trying to know if he was dying.

He thought about the others, Annalise, and Oliver. Would they miss him ? Probably a little. Probably even not. Tears flew down his cheeks. He shouldn't care about that, but he did, and the thought of dying alone, unloved, was painfully unbearable. And tempting, because at least it meant he wasn't tied up, that nothing was holding him back.

And then he thought about Gemma. She would be the one finding him. No, no. Connor didn't want this. He loved his sister too much to do that to her. She was the only one that really cared about him right now ; he wasn't going to give her his dead body as thanks. He wasn't going to ruin another person's life.

He couldn't call 911 neither. If he went to the hospital, Gemma and their mother would know about the drugs, and the doctors, or they would send him to rehab. No, that definitely wasn't an option.

He stood up from the bed, trying not to fall, and clang at the wall for support. He stumbled in the bathroom, tripping a few times, before letting himself sink to the ground next to the toilet. After what felt like forever, he found the strength to lean over and pressed two fingers inside his throat. Black points were dancing in front if his vision, and it felt like someone had put a white sail around him.

He never did that before, he didn't know if it really worked. Soon, he felt bile got up to his throat, so he pushed even deeper, and then he was throwing up all his stomach's contents. His mouth was burning, and it hurt to swallow, but at least he could see the little pills in the toilets.

He fell back against the wall, cold sweat surrounding him, breathing erratically ; he didn't know if it was enough, if it would be okay, if he would be okay.

So he stayed like this, waiting for the word to stop hurting this much.

 

***

 

Gemma found him like that, still sitting in the bathroom ; he knew he looked awful, but he couldn't bring himself to care (hey, at least he was alive). 'Oh my God, you're okay ?', she exclaimed, kneeling besides him, touching his forehead, brushing gently the hair falling in front of his eyes. 'Do you feel sick ? Want me to call a doctor ?', but he shook his head, swallowing the guilt back. 'No, I...', it hurt to talk. 'I maybe just ate something bad, you know. I'll be okay', but that didn't seem to convince her, because she still looked concerned. 'Are you sure ? You could have the flu, or...'

'Gemma', he cut her, sighing. 'I'm fine, okay ? Drop it. You don't have to worry about me'.

She just smiled sadly and affectionately, stroking his face. 'I'll always be worried about you, little brother. Come on, let's get you to bed'.

He let himself be lift up from the ground, and guide out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom. He laid down, and Gemma literally drowned him under the covers and the sheets. When she stepped back to leave, Connor grabbed her wrist. 'Stay ?', he asked in a whisper. She smiled at him, before slipping under the covers next to him. He put his head on her stomach, using it as a pillow, and closed his eyes. If felt right, somehow, to lay down with his sister after almost overdosing.

'You remember', Gemma murmured, 'when you used to slip to come to my room at night, and we would think about ways to kill dad ?'

He nodded lightly, because, yes, he remembered ; but the last word he wanted to hear right now was "kill".

 

***

 

When Connor woke up, it was past eight p.m., which meant he slept almost a whole day.

Gemma was sitting on the bed, watching him. He groaned, taking one of the cover off his body, welcoming the fresh air on his skin. 'You know you're really weird, looking at me like that', he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. But she did look weird, staring at him with a wary expression, which worried instantly Connor. Did she find the pills, or, worse, talk to their mom ?

'Don't be mad at me, okay ? I had to call him, because I think you two really need to talk, and...' Gemma said quickly, looking really nervous. He frowned. 'Wait, slow down. What are you talking about ?'.

'Just... Talk to him, okay ?', she just answered, leaving without letting him the time to understand what was happening, and before he could even react, someone stepped inside.

'Hi', said Oliver, awkwardly. Connor was hesitating between strangling his sister or choking himself with his pillow at the scene. God, he felt so vulnerable, like that. 

‘Hi’, Connor replied, not knowing what to say. 

‘Gemma said you’re sick. You took something, right ?’. Connot didn’t answer, staring determinedly down. ‘Does she know ?’. 

Connor shook his head, ignoring the lump in his throat. 

‘I wanted to come here’, Oliver finally said, ending the tensed silence. ‘I mean, when Michaela told me where you were, I wanted to come and see you, but... I didn’t know if I would be welcome’. 

Connor stared at his lap, playing with his fingers. ‘You’ll always be welcome, Ollie’, he mumbled. That wasn’t what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

‘I’m sorry’, Oliver suddenly exclaimed, making Connor look up at him, surprised. ‘I’m sorry’, he repeated, softer. ‘When I was tester pos, you could have left me, and that was what probably everyone would have done. But you didn’t. You stayed with me, no matter what. And, I realised that... I did the exact same thing everyone would have done if they have a boyfriend taking drugs : give up on you. I regret what I said, okay ? I don’t want to break up with you, Con. I want to help you, and be with you’. 

Connor didn’t say anything during the whole speech, and when Oliver stopped talking, taking a deep breath, he cleared his throat. 

‘So... what ? You’re here because... ?’

He was playing dumb, and that was a little mean, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted, needed to be sure that Oliver wasn’t giving wrong hopes. That Oliver was offering him to go back home, with him. Together. 

‘I’m asking for a second chance’, Oliver answered, nervously. And, God, that was so wrong. Connor was the one who fucked up, who got high despite his promises not to be. Connor should be the one apologising and asking for a second chance. Not Oliver, who had done nothing wrong. Not Oliver, who the only fault was to love him too much.

And it hurt. It hurt, because, no matter what Connor would do, Oliver would always be the better one. Oliver would always be too good, too innocent for him. Connor would never deserve him. 

But Connot didn’t apologise. He didn’t do any of those things. He just left, ran away, hid at his sister’s home. And waited for someone else to come apologise. Or, at least, hoping. But he never thought Oliver would actually come. 

And he felt awful. He felt like the worst person in the world. He felt like he was worthless. And maybe he was. 

‘Okay’, he said, despite everything. He should have said no. He should have told Oliver to leave him, to never go near him again, otherwise Connor would ruin him too. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because he need Oliver so much. He needed him so much that it was painful. 

Oliver’s face lighted up, and he sat besides Connor, taking his hand. 

Connor swallowed back the awful feeling of wrongness. 

 

**_I’ll never deserve you, Ollie._ **

**_Why don’t you leave me ?_ **

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it feels like it’s getting better, don’t believe it. Okay, I sound so evil.  
> Did you watch the seventh episode ? Oh my god. Really. Connor’s proposal was just... fucking beautiful. I swear I cried, and I cried harder when Oliver said I’m sorry and we saw Connors face DROP. And then, the finale scene... I think it’s Connor. He’s the only one we didn’t see in the flash forward, and if it was someone else Michaela wouldn’t be crying like that. Yeah, definitely.   
> I don’t want Connor to diiiiiiiie. Please don’t kill my baby.


	9. chapter nine : he remembers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How they try to deal with everything

'Here', and a little orange bottle appeared in front of his eyes. Connor looked up to Oliver, who was standing next to him. It had been two days they came back from Gemma's, and, really, nothing had gotten better. Oliver didn't seem to trust him anymore : he would always insist to stay with him, and Connor didn't miss the way he was constantly watching him like he was walking on eggshells. Really, he knew Oliver was just worried, but it was starting to get on his nerves. He hadn't take drugs since he almost overdosed, he was perfectly fine, and he really didn't need to be babysit).

(The miss of ecstasy and Adderall, the sensations it gave him, it was eating him, but he was afraid to take them, because, what if Oliver noticed ? When he was asleep, Connor would turn in the bed for hours, scratching at his wrists, and trying to forget the way his body was craving for a pill)

'What's that ?', he asked, tired. He didn't sleep much, and his body was starting to suffer the consequences. He really wanted to sleep, and his head was painfully aching. 'Your antidepressants', Oliver answered, and Connor snorted. 'My antidepressants ?', he mocked. How the hell did Oliver find antidepressants ? You had to give an ordonnance, and... Oh, yeah. Oliver was a hacker, doing a false ordonnance was surely easy for him. 'Gemma gave them to me. She said you were on them until you came to study here'. 

Ah.  _These_ antidepressants. As if Connor needed to have another thing on his mind. 'She said you should start taking them again', Oliver added. 'And I agree with her, because whatever makes you take drugs also makes you depressed, and better antidepressants than drugs'. Connor sighed, and laid down again on the couch, staring at the orange bottle.

'Oh, and, by the way, I know exactly how many pulls there are in this, so don't try to get high on those. If you take more than two per days, I'll know it'. 

Connor rolled his eyes. 'You do realize that it's not candies we're talking about, and that I'm not a child ?'; 

'Just so you know", Oliver said, before settling down besides him, and kissing him on the cheek, but Connor glared at him. 'Please, don't look at me like that', Oliver asked, looking sad. 

'Like what ?'

'Like I'm your enemy'. 

'Sorry', Connor let out. 'It's just... I don't like what those pills remind me of'. 

'You don't have to take them if you don't feel comfortable', Oliver immediately said. 'I just thought it could help you'. They stayed in silent for a moment. 'You wanna tell me why ?', he asked gently. 

(It makes Connor scratch his wrists again. He knows it can quickly become worse, this habit, but he can't stop. It helps him to focus his mind, instead of wandering into darker places. Exactly like the drugs)

'Just... You know. The gay thing. The usual'. 

(It's a lie, but Oliver doesn't need to know this. Connor remembers exactly why, and how.  He remembers the number of guys he screwed in high school. He remembers how the board learned about it. Not exactly how, but he knows who sold him out. Aiden fucking Walker)

'Okay', Oliver said, carefully, 'If you need to talk, just... Talk to me, alright ?'

'Of course', Connor lied, and this lie had a bitter taste in his mouth. 

(He remembers how they came into his room. He remembers freaking out, panicking, and climbing on the window to run away. He remembers how they freaked out too, thinking he wanted to end his life, asking him to calm down and to come back down. He remembers liking the power he suddenly had on them, and maybe he should have realized at this moment how messed up he already was)

'I'm proud of you', Oliver suddenly whispers. 'You didn't take one pill in two days, and you look... Fine'

Connor desperately wanted to laugh at that.

(He remembers smiling. And then Aiden appeared behind them, eyes widening. He remembers loosing his balance in surprise, the horror on their faces when he tipped backwards. He remembers falling)

Annalise's house was exactly the same as when he left. When he stepped inside the living-room, he was surprised when Michaela hugged him, when Asher patted his shoulder with a "hey, buddy", when Laurel smiled at him and when Wes asked him how he was.

It felt comfortably warm. Odd, too. 

He sat down with them, listening them telling him what happened the days he wasn't there. 

(He remembers how cold the ground felt while he was laying, trying to remember how to breathe. He remembers drifting out of consciousness, the pain overwhelming him. When he woke up, the doctor told him he had three broken ribs, a broken arm and a concussion. And that he was going to see a therapist)

'Mister Walsh'. They all turned at the voice. Annalise was standing at the entrance. 'You're back. In my office, please'.  He followed her inside, swallowing the lump in his throat, and sitting in front of her. She stared at him for a second, before saying 'what are you on ?'

He was taken aback by her question. 'What ?'

'What drugs are you taking ?', Annalise asked again. 

'I don't...', he tried to protest, but she cut him again. 'I defend junkies all the time, I know what it looks like'

Connor ignored the way his chest ached at the word "junkie".

(Aiden came to visit him, once. He told him he was sorry, that it was him who told the board, but because he was worrying about him. He told him to get better, and left)

'Look', Connor said, 'I don't take anything anymore. Really, I'm fine'.

'That's almost convincing', Annalise replied. 'I would have believed it, except one thing : you're shaking'

Connor looked down at himself, and was horrified to see she was right.

'It's because of the lack. You're missing it, Connor, and you know what it means ? It means the next time you'll be alone, you'll run straight to your dealer', she sighed, 'I can't let you stay and work in those conditions. I'm sorry. Ask Oliver to come pick you up, go home, and get help'. 

(The therapist was a woman with red hair and blue eyes. It took him a month to open up and talk about how he really felt : alone, invisible, convenient. She called it depression, and said his hook ups were a way of coping, but it was unhealthy and destroying him)

He wandered helplessly into the streets. He felt like shit. Like something worthless you just throw away when you stop needing it.

He sighed, looking up at the sky. He hesitated a moment, before taking the orange bottle out of his jacket and swallowing two pills. 

Not strong enough, and he left all his drugs at Oliver's. He sighed again. He didn't have any choice but to contact Finn. 

His phone ringed, and he looked at the screen. Oliver's name appeared on it. He stared at it, his finger hesitating between answering or rejecting, but he let it ring, until the call ended, and then he sent Finn a text. Finn said he could be there in three hours, so Connor just wrote okay and continued walking without any purpose.

(The therapist gave him antidepressants, but he didn't like how it made him feel : like the world was grey. He couldn't feel anything, and he kinda hated it)

He started going to the place where he and Finn met up. Except that when he finally got there, Finn wasn't alone. There were cops too, their blue and red beacons lightening the dark alley. They pulled the blonde out of his car, passing him the handcuffs, while he was screaming it was a set up and that he was innocent. 

Connor was petrified. He was drowning.  _Shit. Shit, shit, shit._ He was drowning so deep he couldn't breathe. He choked on a sob, gripping at the wall.  _Fuck._

They put Finn inside of one of their cars, and the slam of the door made Connor react. Shaking, he put his hood of his sweat on his head and walked away.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the 9th chapter ! I finally know how many chapters this fiction will have (thirteen) so there are only four chapters left.  
> What did you think of this chapter ?   
> Also, about the winter finale ? It was just incredible. Annalise saving LAurel's baby made me cry **


	10. chapter ten : it's the only way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's centric chapter, a few moments before Connor's leave she Annalise's house... what happened ?

Oliver stared at the little orange bottle, wondering if Connor had told the truth. Was it really about "the gay thing" ? Or was it something else ? The drugs, maybe ? Connor never told him how he started taking drugs. Maybe he was an addict since adolescence. If that was it, if even a therapist didn't help him, how the hell Oliver was going to do that ? Seriously, how do you help someone stuck in this... unhealthy coping system, for so long ? Or, rather, someone that doesn't want to be helped ?

He could try to get some informations, hack into Connor's old high school, but he didn't even know what high school it was, and it would take him hours to find it without asking Connor. 

He looked at the pills again. Connor had taken one of the two bottles. 

Well, if Connor didn't want to share his past with him, then Oliver was going to ask to the only person that was willing to give him informations. And antidepressants, too. He took out his phone, and stared down a moment at the screen. He knew he was kind of invading Connor's privacy, and that if the student was there, he would have gotten angry. He searched in his contacts until he found the name Gemma, and pushed the button "call". She answered right away.

"Ollie !" She exclaimed. "You okay ? How's my little brother ?"

Oliver smiled. "We're okay. Just wondering... why did Connor take antidepressants ?"

"oh, uh...", she sounded nervous, uncomfortable, even. "I'm not sure I can answer that... kinda not my place, you know ? I thought he told you, I mean... well, it's Connor, so it's normal he didn't, but..."

"yeah, I dunderstamd, it's just... I wanna know him better, that's it". Of course it was bigger than the "gay thing". Things always had to be bigger with Connor. (Not just in the sexual way). 

Gemma sighed at the other end. "Okay... but don't tell him I told you, alright ?"

"promised", Oliver answered, reassuring her. His heart was strangely racing in his chest at the perspective of discovering a new piece of the puzzle Connor was. 

"He tried to end his life". Oliver felt like oxygen was violently drained out of his lungs, and he swallowed with difficulties. 

"I mean... I think ?", Gemma added, hesitant. "He told he didn't, that he just fell off the window in accident, but... the therapist did give him antidepressants, and that there were signs".

"signs ?" Oliver repeated, frowning, digging his nails into his palms, trying to ease the lump in his stomach, but he couldn't. He was terrified by what he was learning, by the part of Connor's past Connor seemed desperate to hide from him. A small if it explained everything, as if it explained _him._ And this question wouldn't leave him : would have Connor told him ?

The answer terrified him even more, because.. probably not. 

"All of his hookups", Gemma said. "It was like...  a way to cope. To forget something, to drown an emotion he was feeling, but also to destroy himself". And Oliver suddenly remmènera how, every time he tried to talk, Connor had turned the conversation into sex.

"To avoid feeling more than just... pleasure", Oliver whispered. Oh, god. It could be that. It could be why Connor had so much sex ; not only because he liked it. "Our mother was kind of worried when he lest for law school, because she couldn't have an eye on him, but... he's changed. Because of you".

_He didn't change, Gemma,_ Oliver wanted to say. _He just found another way of coping._

_"_ That's why it surprised me, when he showed up, because he didn't leave the house once. I mean, I assume he didn't leave, I was out for work, but he was always home when I got back. Usually, he would have gone to a club, or something, but... he didn't".

Oliver out a hand on his face, sighing. Of course Connor didn't. He didn't need sex anymore, not when he could get Hugh all day without no one disturbing him. That's what he must have been doing : take drugs. That was probably why Connor's was in a so horrible state when he went inside of the room. 

Oliver les have liked having enough courage to tell Gemma the truth, but he couldn't. He knew Connor would hate him forever, and he was selfish : he didn't want Connor to hate him. Nor did he want to break all the illusions Gemma had made of her brother. 

"Thanks, Gemma", Oliver just said, swallowing the lump in his throat. Trying not to sound shaking and sad. "I'll call you soon, okay ?". Oliver hung up, and sighed again. 

He went into their room, an de looked for Connor's bag, the one he took when he left to Michigan. If Connor's didn't take all the drugs, they had to be there. He found it after a few moments, hidden under clothes at the bottom of the closet. He opened it, and threw everything that wasn't inside out. 

Pills. Empty bottles, full bottles. And a plastic pair of white powder. Oliver stayed sitting on the floor, looking blankly at this. He felt the tears burning his eyes like fire, and he hid his face between his hands, choking on a sob. 

It felt like Connor was a hopeless case. Like, whatever Oliver could do, Connor would always find a way to escape from his eyes and take drugs behind his back. Oliver felt useless. The kind of feeling that make sure you feel like shit, like you're not good enough. Like you're... worthless. 

That was what if felt like. 

That was exactly what it felt like, and Oliver would have wanted Connor to see that. To see that, and to want to stop it. Because, whatever Connor did to hurt himself, it was also hurting Oliver. It would hurt Gemma, if he knew, his mother... 

But Connor didn't see that.

Pas much a so Oliver didn't see why Connor wanted to destroy himself.

Maybe that was the problem. Love made you blind, but Oliver never took that sentence serioulsyl.

He finally stood up, grabbing all the bottles and bags. He threw the empty in the trash, and went with the rest inside of the bathroom. He kneeled next to the toilets, and throwing them all inside, before flushing the toilets. He watched them disappear with a weird feeling of satisfaction and fear.

He sobbed, wiping his tears away. It hurt really fucking bad. 

Really.

fucking.

bad.

after a few minutes, he breathed deeply to calm down, and, taking his phone again, he called Connor. He went straight on voicemail. He frowned, staring to feel panicked, and called Michaela. 

"Hey !", she exclaimed, happily.

"is Connor with you ?", Oliver asked immediately. 

"Uh... no, isn't he with you ? He left the house half an hour ago, he told me you had a problem with your car". Oliver stayed silent, threatening to explode. He didn't even have a car. "Okay, shit, he lied", Michaela let out. "Are you at yours ? I can come, and we couldn't find him together, and..."

"it's fine, Michaela", Oliver interrupted her. "I can do this alone, don't worry". He thanked her, and then hung up.

He inhaled deeply. 

Then, he did the thing he wasn't the best at. He hacked into Connor's phone. The localisation told homme connor was three kilometers away  from Annalise's house. He frowned when he saw that the last applications connir used was his messages. Who did he possibly text ?

He clicked on it, and saw that the first conversation appearing was a conversation with... Finn. Who the hell was Finn ? 

Oliver immediately felt insecure. Did Connor had a secret boyfriend ? Was he cheating on him, again ?

But it didn't last long. He was quick to understand that Finn wasn't Connor's boyfriend, but his drug dealer. And, really, Oliver was stupid not to have wondered sooner how Connor got the drugs. 

And Connor had to meet him in three hours. According to the text. Oliver stared at it for a moment, before starting to type again. 

Oliver didn't have a choice anymore. Connor didn't really gave him any. If he wanted to keep destroying himself behind Oliver's back, then Oliver was going to put an end at this, to take that away from him. If he couldn't not stop Connor rom using drugs, he never he wasn't going to stop him from being able to buy them. Cut the contacts Connor had with... the drug world. Or whatever the hell you could call it.

He hacked into Finn, taking all the evidence he needed, before disappearing without leaving a trace. He sent everything to the police, plus the place and the hour of the appointment he had with Connor, anonymously. 

He felt bad. Kind of. For doing this to Connor, but it was the only solution. Maybe Connor would finally turn towards him for help. 

_It's the only way,_ he kept saying to himself. _It's the only way._

Strangely, it didn't help at all. 

 

***

 

When Connor finally got home, Oliver tried to act normal, like nothing happened, but it was hard by the way Connor looked lost, desperate, like someone had ripped his heart from him.

And that somoene was Oliver.

Oliver had to fight against the desire to apologise. But Connor couldn't know about what he did. 

_It's for his own good,_ Oliver tried to convince himself again. 

"Hey, how was your day ?", he asked. Stupid question. Connor didn't look fine at all. He looked like a truck crashed on him, like he'd cried every single tear out of his body. His eye sight felt off, empty, as if he was stuck inside of himself, far away from Oliver's grasp. 

He pressed himself against Oliver, hiding his face inside the crook of his neck, circling Oliver's waist. Oliver melted into the hug, but, even if he couldn't see Connor's face, his own eyes were burning from the tears. He wanted to cry, to cry with Connor, but Connor wasn't crying. He was just breathing against his skin.

_Help me,_ Connor's body said.

_I'm sorry,_ Oliver's eyes answered.

Both went unnoticed. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A late chapter for Christmas, and a little travel into Oliver's point of view ! What did you think of this chapter ? How will Connor do, now that Lliver made Finn arrested ?  
> I'll post soon ! Only three chapters left !


	11. chapter eleven : he doesn't want me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is in withdrawal, and it isn't without consequences.

 

> _**MOST TIMES** _
> 
> _**I DON'T KNOW** _
> 
> _**WHAT'S WRONG WITH MYSELF** _
> 
> _**WHEN MY HANDS** _
> 
> _**REFUSE TO STOP SHAKING** _
> 
> _**AND I LIE AWAKE** _
> 
> _**AT 3 AM** _
> 
> _**I JUST NEED YOU** _
> 
> _**TO BE THERE.** _
> 
>  

 Connor had no idea withdrawal would feel that awful. He didn't have a dealer anymore, and everything he bought from last time had strangely disappeared. 

(He really suspected oliver for this, but neither of them ever brought it in a conversation. If Connor would have talked about it, it would have been admitting he took drugs again, and if Oliver would have talked about it, it ould have been admitting he sneacked in Connor's stuff. They were both in fault, but they were denying it, pretending they weren't, that nothing happened, so, if nothing hapened, then neither of them was in fault, right ?)

That's what Oliver was doing, mostly. Trying to pretend everything was fine between them, that Connor wasn't a fucking mess.

Connor tried to do it too, to please Oliver, but ignoring the fact that his all body was craving for a pill made it difficult.

(The constant headache, the way hi eyes hurt in the daylight, how he felt at the same time cold and burning, how everything around him seemed dull, empty.)

It wasn't unbearable. It was like a bad flu. A bad flu, that lasted longer than normal, but nothing impossible to survive, right ?

But, then, came the shaking.

He woke up at night, soaked up in a freezing sweat, shaking uncontrollably. He tried to calm down, to reassure himself, but the shaking wouldn't stop. He slipped out of the bed, not wanting to wake up Oliver, and laid down on the couch, squeezing a pillow against his stomach.

He tried to sleep again, but the picture of Sam's dead and bloody body wouldn't leave him. 

 

***

"Hey" Oliver said, walking into the living room. Connor just closed his eyes, still shaking. "Connor", Oliver called him.

Sighing, he opened his eyes. Oliver was staring at him with worried eyes. "How long have you been up ? You don't look good"

"Thanks, Ollie", Connor said, more bitter than he intended to. If Oliver noticed it, he didn't give any signs he did.

"You're shaking", Oliver added, concern filling his brown eyes. "Do you feel sick ?"

"It's nothing" Connor mumbled. He appreciated Oliver worrying about him, but his endless questions were really getting on his nerves. He just wanted silence and calm.

"It's going to pass, stop worrying about me". He didn't miss the hurt on Oliver's face.

"Alright", Oliver said, cold and tensing. "I have to go to work. Call me if you need anything".

A few moments later, the door slammed in the entry.

Pissing Oliver off wasn't his end goal, but at least now he was alone. 

Alone. Why did it bother him so bad, now ? Before this, before everyhting happened, he was fine being alone, he didn't need anyone.

But now, there was Oliver. There were the drugs.

And now he was beginning to lose both.

He wasn't stupid. He knew keeping on taking drugs was pushing Oliver away. And even if the other promised to stay, it wouldn't last. Connor would have long left by now, if he was him.

He cared about Oliver. No, he loved Oliver, and this was the first time he fell in love with someone. (He never thought he would. Even more, he never thought someone would love him back)

He just had to quit on the drugs, and Oliver and him would be happily ever after. But Connor loved drugs, too. Or, rather, he needed them. He needed them to stop having nightmares, to stop being paranoid, to stop seeing Sam's body everywhere. He needed them to not drown.

He was still drowning, though. But they made his fall less quick. He needed that. He needed the way they dulled his feelings.

He needed them more than anything.

(He needed Oliver, too. But there was this ultimatum : Oliver or the drugs, and if he didn't choose, he would lose both of them)

He looked down at his shakind hands. He was a mess. He couldn't bear Oliver seeing him like that.

(It's a lie. He's lying to himself. It's just a pretext to go buy drugs)

He remembers that one time Finn tried to invite him in a party. Really, it's a drug den, Connor had said, but Finn had smiled and said "for us, it's party, mate".

He didn't go, because he didn't give a shit about Finn.

But now, he needed to go there. He'd just have to say he's a friend of Finn, pay for drugs, have a little fun while he was there, and come back before Oliver. Easy.

He put on some dark jeans and a black hoodie, and got out. He searched a moment in his texts with Finn the one where he sent him the adress of the drug den, until he found it. He pulled the ignition on of his car, and drive there, hoping there would be people. He parked his car in an alley, then came in an old building. Someone was sitting on the stairs, smoking a cigarette. it was a man, a few years older than Connor, maybe, wih dark hair and a tatoo on the neck. 

"Who are you ?" the guy asked right away, not disturbing with formalities. His eyes were all danger. "I never saw you here"

"I'm a friend of Finn", Connor answered. "He invited me"

"Finn's not here", the guy said. 

"I know. I'm not here for him. I'm here for drugs. I can pay"

The guy stared at him, then digged his cigarette on the ground to light if off. "Alright. But I decide the price", he added, smirking, literally checking Connor out. 

"I have a boyfriend", Connor said. "And I can pay"

His heart was beating loudly against his chest. 

"Well, I don't see him here, and I don't want your money', the other answered calmly. "Besides, no one here usually sell stuff to strangers. I'm willing to make an exception for you, pretty boy, you should take it".

Connor squeezed his fists to stop his fingers from shaking.

He didn't have any choice. 

He needed to get high.

He needed it.

"Okay", Connor finally said. "What are you waiting for, then ?"

"Eager", the guy commented, mockingly. He stood up, coming closer to Connor, and kissed him, his hands wandering in Connor's hair. His lips tasted pretty good, a mix of smoke and sugar, but Connor felt like throwing up.  _Come on,_ he thought,  _that didn't bother you, before._ So he answered to the kiss, nipping at the guy's lips.

"Come on", the guy said, pushing him inside of an appartment, passing one of the doors behind him. There was no one inside. 

"Isn't it supposed to be a party ?" Connor asked when they pulled away.

"Party's upstairs", the guy replied. "Here, take that", and he handled him a little pill.

"I don't want just one pill", Connor said.

"You'll have others after", he answered. "Take it"

Connor reluctantly obeyed, putting it between his pills, before swallowing it, and before he could look up, the guy was kissing him, pressing him against the wall. 

Soon, they were both naked, Connor's skin bare to the other's. 

"Aren't you supposed to have a boyfriend ?", the guy (Will, he told him between two kisses) said. Connor digged his nails inside of his skin, pushing Will inside of him. He wanted it to be quick, he wanted to get over with it."Just fuck me" he breathed out, sharply.

"baby" Will said, staring to thrust inside of him. "I'm happy to"

Everything got lost between one breath and another.

 

***

The girl is digging a needle inside of his arms, injecting something inside of his veins. Connor felt like shit, even high. Everything seemed... Misty, awfully slow, like he was locked in a cocoon, but he felt horrible.

He cheated on Oliver.

He cheated on Oliver.

He cheated on him.

_Again._

It looked like it was the only thing he was good at.

After their hook up, Will had taken him upstairs, giving him whatever pills he asked for (Connor put them in his pocket), and told him to enjoy the party.

He wasn't. Not at all, but he was waiting for the drugs to kick in, to make him forget what he had done. 

"Can you help me with it ?", the girl asked, giving him the needle. Connor absolutely had no idea what to do, but he copied what she did with him. When he finished injecting whatever the hell that was one the needle, she breathed out happily, putting her head on Connor's shoulder, humming a song.

Connor felt like he was trapped into the time. It felt like everything was in slow motion, to the point it began to feel painful. The lights of the party were blinding him. The drugs started to have effet on him. 

He didn't feel bad.

He didn't feel good, either.

 

***

The girl stopped humming after a while. It didn't occur him, at first.

A guy went next to her, shaking her slightly. "Hey, babe, wake up. We need to go home" Connor thought he said. The girl didn't move, stayed half laying on Connor's shoulder. The guy shook her harder, but she stayed still, unresponsive.

Connor looked at him blankly. 

He felt nothing.

The guy put his head on her chest, then shouted "Her heart isn't beating ! It isn't fucking breathing !". He turned towards Connor. "What did you do to her, asshole ?!" and punched him right in the face. Connor fell backwards on the ground, feeling his jaw pecking a little. 

He couldn't bring himself to care. 

He couldn't bring himself to feel something.

Someone pushed the guy brutally. Will. He looked really high. "Hey !" Will said, "don't touch to my new friend !"

"He killed my girlfiend !" The other yelled. Will laughed without any compassion.

"Your _stupid junkie_  girlfiend overdosed, idiot !" Will let out.

Before anyone could scream, or do something, the guy pulled a gun out of his jacket. There was a  _bang !_ , and Will fell on the ground, a ball right in the head. Connor felt something wet and sticky on his face. He brought shaking fingers on his forehead. When he looked at them, they were soaking by blood.

_No,_ he begged. The girl was staring at him with half closed glassy eyes.  _Not again._

The guy shot again, and someone fell again. There were screams, more gunshots, and it was the turn of the guy to fall on the ground, dead. 

There was blood everywhere. On the ground, on the bodies, on Connor's hands and clothes. He breathed deeply, trying to calm down, but it felt like the world was imploding around him. 

Someone screamed.

Maybe that was him. 

He hid his face in his hands, pressing his kness against his chest, and waited. 

When he looked up, he was alone. 

The bodies were still there, but everybody has left. 

Connor pushed himself on his feet, tears streaming down his face. He joined the door, and, before leaving, he turned back, staring at the bloody scene. 

Something broke inside of him.

 

***

When he got home, he had succeeded in washing the blood away from himself. 

Oliver was there, looking angry.

Connor kept his head towards the ground. If he looked into Oliver's eyes, he would break even more. 

"Where the hell were you ?" Oliver exclaimed. 

Connor didn't answer.

He felt so hollow on the inside. Like someone ripped a hole inside of his chest, again. Because everything he tried no to repeat happened again.

His hands looked clean, but no one had any idea how much blood there was on them.

"Give them to me" Oliver commanded after a while. Connor frowned, looking up briefly.

"What ?" He mumbled.

"The drugs you bought. Give them to me, right now", Oliver repeated.

"Ollie", Connor let out. He couldn't. Not after everything he had to do to get them, not after everything that happened. 

"Give them- No, you know what ? I can't do this. You're impossible, Connor, I... I'm sorry, but... I can't do this anymore. Go away, please", Oliver said, sounding so disappointed, so defeated that Connor wanted to cry. "Leave my appartment, please"

_My_ appartment.

Something shattered inside of Connor.

_please don't leave me alone with myself_

"Leave, Connor !" Oliver yelled. 

"Ollie" Connor choked out. Oliver shook his head, breathing deeply. 

"I'm going out. I want you gone when I return", and, passing besides him, he got out. 

Connor stayed, standing up alone in the middle of the hall. 

The hole in his chest grew up, eating him slowly.

Something snapped inside of him. He couldn't lose Oliver. Not now. 

He ran after him, rushing outside to see him walk away. He caught up with him. 

"Leave me alone, Connor" Oliver said, not looking at him. 

"Please. I can explain. I-I can tell you everything" Connor begged. 

"You should have done it sooner ! You know how it feels like ? You open up to me only when I break up with you ! It's not a fucking relationship, it's _toxic_ !" Oliver yelled. Connor flinched at that word, tears burning in his eyes. "I don't want things between us to be like that. I don't want someone like that."

Connor let out a silent sob. 

_I don't want someone like that._

_He doesn't want someone like me._

_He doesn't want me._

"Ollie", he whispered. He could feel all his body twist, squirm in pain. He could feel everything inside of him break in thousands and thousands of pieces. 

Oliver shook his head, and, one more time, walked away. 

 

 

 

The car hit him hard, making him roll onto the ground a few meters away. 

Connor didn't scream. He didn't move. 

He stayed perfectly still, watching in shock and horror Oliver unconscious on the ground, as blood started to pour on his wounds. 

He couldn't think. He couldn't do anything. 

It felt like he died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Here is the eleventh chapter. Only two chapters left.   
> What did you think of Connor's decision ? The killing in the drug den ? Oliver breaking up with him ?   
> The accident at the end ?  
> You'll see if Oliver will make it... And what will happen for Connor in the newt chapter.   
> Happy new year's eve !  
> (This chapter made me really depressed. Sorry if it makes you depressed too)


	12. chapter twelve : I'm so cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before last chapter... Big trigger warnings.

> **When it's cold I'd like to die**

 

The phone rang once. Twice. 

"Connor ?" Michaela asked, surprised, at the other end. Connor tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

"hey" he answered, nervous. His hands were shaking, but this time, it wasn't from the withdrawal. "I... sorry to call you so late". He was Turing to win some time, he knew it, and he knew how stupid it was. 

"Don't worry" she answered. "So ? What's going on ?"

Connir felt the tears beginning to burn his eyes. He pushed them away furiously. He didn't have the right to cry. It wasn't his place, not anymore. "I... could you come ?" He said instead of what he wanted to tell her, how bad he had messed up, but his voice cracked at the end. He wanted to punch himself for that. 

"Yeah, of course" Michaela said, still kindly, "where are you ?" 

Connor felt like he was choking. He inhaled deeply, and a tear rolled on his cheek. 

"Hospital" he simply answered. He could feel Michaela radiating of confusion and of all the questions she wanted to ask him, but he was beyond relieved when she only said : 

"okay. I'll be here in ten minutes" and hung up. 

Connor put his phone back in his pocket, hands shaking awfully, his eyes staring blankly at the wall in front of him. He started pacing without any purpose, hands clutching in his hair. Waiting was unbearable. Waiting for Michaela was unbearable. Waiting for any update on Oliver's state was unbearable. 

He just had time to ask the doctors where they were taking him before they closed the doors and the amubulance drove away. He had to go to the hospital on his own, but, arrived here, the nurse at the office said they must have took him in E.R., but that she didn't have medical update yet.

Connir had to calm down. And wait.

As promised, Michaela showed up ten minutes later, storming inside of the room, asking what had happened. Asher appeared after her, saying he was parking the car, eyes filled with worry, and Connor tried to tell them both what was happening, but the words were stuck at the bottom of his throat.

"It's Ollie" he finally managed to let out. Michaela and Asher frowned both at the same time, and Connor would have laugh at them if he could have. 

"Ollie ?" Michaela repeated. "Why ? What's wrong with him ? Is it because he's pos ?"

Connkr shook his head. "I..." he choked on himself, struggling for breathing. "He got struck by a car". Connor tried to hide his tears. It was his fault. 

Michaela brought a hand on her mouth in a shocked movement.  

"What do you mean ?" Asher asked, obviously in shock too. 

"We were fighting in the street... He stepped of the path, and... I guess the driver didn't see him" Connor answered, scratching at his wrists. 

There's a heavy silence following his words. Connor feels like he's drowning, deeper and faster than he's even been. 

But it was all on him, things ending. His addictions, his self confidence that he could take care of himself, that he didn't need anyone's help, had been his downfall, and obviously he couldn't resist dragging Oliver down with him. 

Michaela's hands gripped at his in a warm and comforting embrace, bringing him back into reality, but she couldn't chance his cold he was feeling on the inside. 

"What were you fighting about ?" Michaela asked him gently. Connor stared at her, and he felt a pain behind his left eyebrow growing. He rubbed at his face roughly, but the headache persisted. 

He was a fuck up. A murderer. He killed Sam, the girl in the drug den, Will, and others an de others. He remembers the blood on the ground of Annalise's house, he remembers the sound of gunshots and the blood in his face and fingers. 

He killed them all. 

He felt the bile and the bitter taste burning in his mouth. He almost screamed. He hated himself. He hated himself so, so much.

"Because I'm a drug addict" He mumbled. It was the first time he admitted it aloud.

Strangely, it didn't make him feel better.  

"What ?" Michaela said. 

"I'm a drug addict" Connor repeated, louder. 

He was a drug addict. 

He was a drug addict. 

He was a drug addict. 

A drug addict. 

 _There._ He could add it to the list of names defining him. Along with liar, mess, murderer, and the others. 

* * *

 

It it was five a.m. when a doctor finally came, asking if there was someone for Oliver Hampton. Michaela jumped on her feet, waking up Asher and dragging Connor with her. 

"How is he ?" She then asked, and Connor admired her for her self control. He could barely hold himself together. 

No. Cross that. He couldn't. 

"I'm not going to lie to you, his injuries are pretty bad. He's got a nasty concussion, the shock might have touched some parts of his brain. We don't know for sure, but he'll maybe have troubles talking. He's got broken ribs, but it's his legs that worry me. The bones moved, you see" the doctor announces. 

"What are the consequences ?" Asher inquired. 

"Well... he may never will properly again". 

Connor feels himself becoming heavier at each words. _He may never walk properly again._ Fuck. 

Fuck.

He was beyond collapsed. 

He hid his face in his hands. 

"It's maybe fault" he sobbed. "I ruined him".

 

Oliver was hurt. Badly. He could have died, and now his body was suffering the consequences. Oliver was going to suffer the consequences.  It seemed it was the only thing Connor was good at. Hurting him, hurting his body. Because of him, Oliver got positive. Because of him, he was hit by a car.

It was all his fault. 

He didn't want to break down now, not when everyone could see him. Because, even if Oliver recovered, he would hate even more Connor. He already hated him. And Connor loved him.

He wished he could cry. He wished he could go back in time. He wished he could apologise. He wished he never met Annalise. He wished he never met Oliver.  

He wished he never existed. 

He wished he could _die_. 

_I want to die._

The realisation hit him, hard. 

Death. It was strange, now that he was thinking really about it, realising that it was what he wanted from the beginning. Because, if he wanted so hard to stop feeling anything at all, how dying never _really_ crossed his mind ?

If he died, no one would really miss him, besides his mother and his sister, but they would be better off without him. Just like Oliver and Michaela. Connor was like a cancer, a poison destroying everything he touched. It was his curse. 

He ~~wanted~~   _deserved_ to die. 

And, just like that, his decision was taken. 

Or maybe he took it for a long time ago, but just realised it now. Now, when he was at the complete bottom of the rabbit hole. 

He had finished spiralling. He had hit the end of the bottom. 

He didn't know. He didn't care. 

Because, by a few hours, he'll be dead. 

* * *

 

 

"You should go home" Michaela said. "Seriously, you look exhausted. Oliver won't be awake in a few moments, and we can visit him only in two hours. You should go change some clothes, take a shower, rest a little". 

And, really, it was all Connor asked. To have some time alone. To sleep. 

And never wake up again. 

"Okay" he simply said. 

"We'll call you if anything happens, I promise" Asher added. 

Connor started walking away, when he heard Michaela call him. He turned towards her. 

"It's not your fault, okay ?" She said. 

Connkr stared at her, unmoving and silent for a few seconds. _No, Michaela. It's my fault._

But he nodded anyway.

Connor felt some regrets while leaving. He wished he could have seen Oliver one last time. Even if it would have just served making him see what he caused. 

No. It was better this way. 

(He ignored how walking away from his friends and Oliver was harder than he thought)

* * *

 

When he stepped off Oliver's appartement, it was exactly the way he left it. It reminded him bitterly of their fight. Of what he had lost. Of what he had caused. 

He felt strangely cold and empty. 

It was weird, to feel nothing when he wasn't even high. 

He closed the door behind him, walking towards the sofa and sitting on it. 

He stayed like that for a long time, staring and thinking about nothing. His mind was blank. His chest was hollow. 

His all being was like faded. 

After a while, he took out of his pocket all the pills he had gotten in the drug den. They felt heavy in his hand, now that he was looking at them. He wanted to throw them, to never have to see them again, because it was their fault. They caused everything. 

But it was his way-out ticket. And he couldn't lose it. 

He couldn't lose anything anymore. 

Slowly, he got up and went in the bathroom. The apartment felt cold and lost, without someone inside. It didn't feel like home anymore. 

Nothing felt like home anymore. 

He opened the tap, watched as the water flew into the bath, slowly filling it. When it was full, he undressed himself, putting everything that was in his pocket on the sink. The drugs. His phone. The keys of his car and of the apartment. 

He he looked up, and the mirror reflected him. His body was pale, the kind of sick-pale. The bags under his eyes were the only defaults in the face people so loved in him. In the face he offered to everyone to hide the dark secrets he liked to hide behind. 

That, and the dullness and the emptiness he could see in his own eyes. 

He rubbed his forehead, watching as a tear rolled in his cheek. 

He hated himself. He hated the person he had become. 

He got into the bathtub, shivering slightly against the cold of the water in his skin. He sit entirely in it, throwing his head back and sighing. 

He felt so cold. 

His gaze fell on the phone on the sink, just next to the pills. 

_Maybe I should leave a note_

He hesitated. One second. Two. 

He took the phone, and unlocked it. 

He wasn't great at writing, but talking, talking had always been one of his strenghts. 

He opened his contacts, searched for Oliver's, and his finger hollowed on the calling button. He hesitated again, before pressing it. 

He knew Oliver wouldn't answer, he wasn't that stupid. He didn't even know where was Oliver's phone, if it broke in the car accident. 

He did even know if Oliver would listen to the message one day. 

But he put the phone against his ear, and started speaking anyway. 

 

When he was done, he hung up and put the phone back on the sink. He stared at the pills, and grabbed them. 

Carefully, and counting them, he put each pill he had in his left hand. When he was done, there were thirty-three pills between his fingers. 

He took a deep breath. 

His heart was pounding loudly against his ears. 

He throew his head back and swallowed them all. He almost choked, but when there weren't any pills left in his hands, he relaxed into the bath, diving more into the water, completely laying, his head resting on the wall behind him. 

He started crying. Finally. 

He cried, cried, and sobbed and screamed, consuming in pain and sadness and loneliness and regrets. He cried, until there weren't any tears left in his body. He cried, until his throat hurt. He cried until the world became blurry and dizzy, and that he had difficulties breathing and seeing and hearing. 

He was dying. 

All he could hear was the sound of his breaths. That, and the sound of water falling drop by drop from the bath onto the ground. 

_Plick._

It felt relaxing. 

_Plock._

Nice, even. 

_Plick._

He felt so cold.

_Plock._

So, so cold.

_Plick._

 

His all world faded to black.

 

* * *

 

 

"Hey... It's Connor. I perfectly know you won't pick up, but I figure you will maybe hear the message. Or maybe not. I don't know. 

_Pause._

I don't know much of anything anymore. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About everything. I lied to you so many times, and I promise that, at first, it was to protect you. Because I love you, and I didn't want to lose you, and... and one lie became two lies, and three, and then it felt like I was drowning in all of them. I... I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want to, at all. I wanted you to be happy. And I... I couldn't, be happy. That's why I took drugs. It helped me keeping the head above the water. It helped me to stop feeling what I was feeling. Even if it was destoying me. Us. 

_Pause._

I did bad things. Really, really bad things. I... People died. Because of me. 

_Pause._

And now, you almost died, and it's my fault. Sometimes, it's like... like it's just what I'm good at. Like I'm some kind of black hole, or something. Like everything that I ever do is destoying people around me. And I'm sorry I destroyed you. You were the one thing that I ever wanted, and I ruined everything again. I know that you hate me, right now, and you're right to do so. I hate myself too. I...

_Pause._

I cheated on you. The night before we fought. I cheated on you. For drugs. 

_Pause._

That's how bad I'm messed up. I was so... desperate to stop feeling everything, and I was hiding myself behind lies, saying it was all for good, that if I didn't have those pills, I wouldn't be able to keep up with you. That I would be unhappy, and that it would make you unhappy. But I was selfish, that's the truth. I was so _fucking_ selfish. 

_Pause._

I'm a monster. A fuck up, a liar, a selfish person, a drug addict. And a killer. And I didn't deserve to be with someone like you. I never would. I destroyed you. 

_Pause._

It was me. 

_Pause._

And that's why... that's why I have to die.

_Pause._

And I'm sorry.

 

_Beep._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Only one chapter left.  
> Writing this chapter made me so depressed I swear I was crying.  
> Do you think Connor will survive ?  
> I'll post the last one soon ;) don't hesitate to tell me what you thought !


	13. chapter thirteen : please don’t leave me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter guys...

Connor woke up in the dark.

No.

He wasn’t... He couldn’t wake up. He was dead. Dead people didn’t wake up. He was dead. 

He waited. 

He could feel his heart beating against his chest. Could hear himself breathe. 

He... 

He was alive. 

He swallowed, his throat burning and aching, and began to cry. 

He was alive. 

* * *

He woke up a second time. Michaela was sitting by his bed, smiling at him with tears eyes. “Hey” she said, gently. 

Connor just looked at her, unable to talk, to say a word. “Do you remember what happened ?” She asked, still soft. 

Connor nodded. He remembered. 

“So... I know I should let the doctors tell it to you, but I’d figure you’d like to hear it from me... You’ve been out for two months. They had to wash your stomach, and... they’re going to keep you for a bit. At least until they’re sure you’re not a danger to yourself anymore. And that you’ll stop taking drugs”. A beat. Connor felt his chest tightening. “Ollie told us everything” Michaela then added, and Connor flinched slightly at the mention of Oliver. “I... I didn’t know you felt that bad. About what happened”

Sam. The girl at the drug den. Will. The others. Ollie. 

Connor swallowed and turned away to hide the tears in his eyes.     

”Why didn’t you tell us, Connor ? We could’ve helped you” Michaela said, her tone almost pleading.     

_Because I was afraid._

“I don’t know” Connor croaked out, pronouncing the first words since he woke up. They burned awfully, leaving a fire in his lungs, choking him at every breath, and he tasted bitter smoke on his tongue. 

Then the doctors came in, asking things he couldn’t answer, telling him things he didn’t care about. 

They told him he was going to be put in a psych ward, then in rehab. 

He didn’t care. 

He wanted to ask about Oliver, but he didn’t, biting on his lips and staying quiet. 

He felt nothing. 

* * *

 

He’s laying on the hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling when Oliver came in, holding himself with a pair of grudges, a bandage around his head, the white of it contrasting on his dark hair. He took a seat next to Connor, struggling to sit a little. Connor stayed still, every muscle of his body tensing, his fingers gripping at the mattress. He wanted to run, to fly away, to disappear. Wanted to hold onto Oliver. 

There was an uncomfortable silence, and then- “Why are you here ?” Connor asked, eyes staring at his own lap, determined to not look at Oliver’s face. Seeing him was above his strength : Oliver was everything he could never have. Everything he hurt, everything he wanted, everything he lost. 

He didn’t miss the look of abject hurt on Oliver’s features. “I’m here because I love you” Oliver answered in a shaky voice. 

 _“You love me ?”_ Connor repeated, suddenly so furious he could barely see. Furious at Oliver for being so good. For still loving him in spite of everything he had done. Furious at himself for still not deserving him. He laughed, bitter and desperate. “I almost killed you, and you love me ?”

”it wasn’t your...” Oliver tried to say, but Connor didn’t want to hear him talking. He wanted Oliver to blame him, to hate him, to scream at him for ruining everything. 

“Of course it was !” Connor yelled, almost hysterical. He inhaled sharply, and repeated, quieter. "It was, I..." his voice broke and trailed off. Everything hurt. "I cheated on you. Just before we fought. I cheated on you, for drugs. You understand ?" A sob escaped his lips, and he wiped at his face rageously, conscious he was saying e same thing he said on the phone, just before he took the pills. "I sold my body for a bunch of pills. That's... that's how bad I'm messed up." 

Oliver stared at him with sad eyes, and this time, Connor didn't look away. He wanted Oliver to understand, to see him the way he really was : broken. 

After a while, Oliver turned away, and Connor scratched at his own wrists. He wanted this conversation to be over. He wanted Oliver to leave, to forget about him, to move on. He wanted everyone to forget about him. 

He just wanted to be alone. 

Instead, Oliver took his phone out of his pocket. "When I woke up" Oliver started, voice strangled, "Michaela was there, telling me you tried to kill yourself, and that Asher found you in the bathroom, overdosing. My phone disn't break in the car wreck, so, after a couple of days, I realised I had a voicemail" and without saying another word, he clicked on something on his phone, and Connor's voice filled the room. 

 

_"Hey... It's Connor. I perfectly know you won't pick up, but I figure you will maybe hear the message. Or maybe not. I don't know._

_I don't know much of anything anymore. I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About everything. I lied to you so many times, and I promise that, at first, it was to protect you. Because I love you, and I didn't want to lose you, and... and one lie became two lies, and three, and then it felt like I was drowning in all of them. I... I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't want to, at all. I wanted you to be happy. And I... I couldn't, be happy. That's why I took drugs. It helped me keeping the head above the water. It helped me to stop feeling what I was feeling. Even if it was destoying me. Us._

_I did bad things. Really, really bad things. I... People died. Because of me._

_And now, you almost died, and it's my fault. Sometimes, it's like... like it's just what I'm good at. Like I'm some kind of black hole, or something. Like everything that I ever do is destoying people around me. And I'm sorry I destroyed you. You were the one thing that I ever wanted, and I ruined everything again. I know that you hate me, right now, and you're right to do so. I hate myself too. I..._

_I cheated on you. The night before we fought. I cheated on you. For drugs._

_That's how bad I'm messed up. I was so... desperate to stop feeling everything, and I was hiding myself behind lies, saying it was all for good, that if I didn't have those pills, I wouldn't be able to keep up with you. That I would be unhappy, and that it would make you unhappy. But I was selfish, that's the truth. I was so fucking selfish._

_I'm a monster. A fuck up, a liar, a selfish person, a drug addict. And a killer. And I didn't deserve to be with someone like you. I never would. I destroyed you._

_It was me._

_And that's why... that's why I have to die._

_And I'm sorry."_

 

The message ended, and Connor started crying, nails digging into his palms, chest tightening so strongly he could barely breathe. His lungs burned and hurt and ache in the worst way possible, and he felt the urge to swallow a pill to make it stop. 

"You love me too. In your own way, as weird and fucked up it is, you love me" Oliver suddenly said, finally talking again. "As much as I do. I know it. And I forgive you, Connor. And I'm sorry, too, for not helping you the way you needed help. For trying to kick you out when I couldn't take it anymore" 

Connor looked up at him. "No. No, Ollie. You were right to do that" 

"Don't be silly" Oliver replied, and it made Connor laugh, in a broken and wet sound. Oliver started laughing too, and suddenly, he reached out and took Connor's hand, pressing it. Connor looked at their intertwined fingers. 

There was silence, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. 

For the first time, it felt right. Almost good. 

"I screwed up as a boyfriend, didn't I ?" Oliver asked, laughing and sobbing. 

Connor pressed gently at his hand. "No" he said, shaking his head. "I screwed up as a human being" 

Oliver smiled sadly, and took Connor's other hand, kissing his knuckles. "I get it" he whispered, like he was afraid to talk louder. "Why we can't love each other right now". Connkr stared at him in silence, and Oliver kissed his hand again. "Because you don't love yourself. I know that now, and I..." Oliver inhaled deeply. "I want you to get better, alright ?"

Oliver stood up, letting go of Connor's hands, and kissed his cheek, before leaving the room. 

Asher and Wes and Laurel and Michaela and his sister came in then, crying and hugging him. 

Life went on. 

* * *

Oliver stared at his phone, sighing, finger ghosting over the call button. 

One year. It had been one year since everything happened. Since he discovered Connor was a drug addict, since he had a car accident, since Connor tried to kill himself. 

One year since Connor had left in rehab. 

And disappeared. 

Well, didn’t disappear on the way “kidnapped”, but he just seemed to have... vanished. No one, not even Michaela, had heard anything from him for the past months. Oliver had tried to call Gemma, because she must had some news of Connor, being his sister, but she avoided all of his calls. Oliver didn’t know if it was because she blamed him for not telling her what was going on with Connor, or something else. 

Maybe Connor simply didn’t want to have anything to do with them. 

Oliver could understand. Connor was trying (or at least he hoped that) to get better, so stay in contact with the city that held so many of his nightmares wasn’t exactly to best way to heal. 

For all this time, Oliver had tried to respect Connor’s decision (which was to stay away from them) but now, he couldn’t. He wanted to at least know if Connor felt better. 

He looked at the picture of the contact, one of the only where Connor was actually smiling. A brief snapshot of a long gone happiness. Oliver cherished it more than anything. Because it meant that Connor had been happy once. It meant that he could be again. It held all Oliver’s hopes and promises for Connor. 

He pressed the button, and brought the phone to his hear, heart racing against his chest. He waited, as the bell rang, nervous and anxious. 

“The number you have dialled does not exist”

Oliver sighed and hung up. Of course Connor would have changed of number. Why wouldn’t he ?

He could easily hack into Gemma’s messages to see if she had any news, but he had done it once, to track Connor, and he saw where that had led him.

He had to trust Connor on this. 

Oliver would wait for him to tell him what he wanted. If his decision was to never see Oliver again, then so be it. 

 

 

(It’s a lie.)

* * *

 

Connor showed up two weeks after that.

It was seven a.m. As if Connor hoped no one would be awake to answer. 

There was a light knock at Oliver’s door, so light Oliver almost missed it. But he heard it, and, putting quickly a tee-shirt on, he stumbled to open the door. 

To face the most simple and pure version of Connor he’d never seen. 

Because, really, Connor looked... Great. The bags under his eyes had almost disappeared, his skin had lost the sick-pale it had, and his eyes were brillant, nothing like the dull and dark he had to face every morning a year ago. 

He looked... new. Different. 

Better. 

“Hey” Connor let out, his fingers tapping on his hip, as if he were nervous. Oliver realised he must have been staring, and he cleared his throat, trying his best not to blush. 

“Oh, uh... hey” and really, could he have said something more stupid ? Connor was there, after one year without any news, and all Oliver could say was ‘hey’ ?

He wanted to say a thousand things. He wanted to say Connor he looked beautiful, he wanted to ask why he didn’t give him any news, he wanted to... 

“I’m just...” Connor stuttered, looking as nervous as Oliver felt. “I’m just here to take my stuff back. If it’s okay ? Then I’ll just... leave” 

 _Oh,_ Oliver thought, feeling his heart fall in his chest. He tried as best a so he could not to show his disappointment. "Yeah, yeah, of course", and he moved to let Connor come in. Connor seemed to hesitate a moment, before following him. 

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you" Connor said again, and Oliver became suddenly aware he was only wearing a tee shirt and some boxers. _Don't blush._

"No, no, don't worry. I was just... doing nothing". 

Connor nodded, tapping once again his fingers against his hips, and Oliver remembered Connor didn't use it that. Connor used to hold a pillow or scratch at his wrists. _He's changed._

"I'll just hurry", Connor answered, starting to open a drawer, surely to take the clothes he left in there (not as if Oliver had deliberately keep them so he had something left from Connor, a proof that this wasn't just a dream). 

"Why didn't you talk to me ?" Oliver blurted out before he could stop himself. 

Connor froze in front of the clothes, hand on the door. Then, slowly, he turned towards Oliver. His face was a mix of confusion and reflexion. 

"I-I mean, you didn't give any news. You just... disappeared" Oliver quickly added, voice shaking. 

There was a moment, where none of them talked. Oliver waited for Connor's answer, hands becoming sweaty. 

"I couldn't" Connor finally replied, slowly and softly. "I throw my phone the minute I was out in the psych ward. I didn't... I felt like I was a burden, you know. I didn't want... to hold you back. At least, that was what I felt like, at first"

 _You could never be a burden,_ Oliver wanted to say. 

"Then, I started... to be better. I think. The therapist I got helped me stop feeling like a burden that needed to disappear. She told me to... to try to get better not just for you, but also for myself. That my life was also mine. And for that, I had to get away from this city, from you, otherwise, I would... I wouldn't have gotten better. If I was still stuck in here, with every memories trying to swallow me, I would only get lost and spiral down again. Then I went in rehab, and it took me a really, really long time, but I started to see the end of the tunnel, y'know ? I stated to forget this... uncontrollable, overwhelming urge to take drugs, to stop feeling everything, to avoid emotions. I've felt it, many times, I just wanted to throw everything away and just have a pill, but I didn't. They let me out two months ago. I went to California. I applied to Stanford, found a appartement..."

"you're leaving Philadelphia" Oliver realised, felling a little numb. He never thought Connor would do that. And it was stupid, to think Connor would stay in that city after everything he went through. 

"Yeah. That's... I think that's the right thing to do. I can't... I can't stay here. Not anymore. It's just... it's too much" Connor murmured, his face darkening for a short moment. 

Oliver felt his throat tightening. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and swallowed again. 

"I'll help you pack"

* * *

 

Oliver knew it was a little mean to do that, and totally selfish, but he couldn't stop himself. He took all his time packing Connor's stuff, even trying to slow things down a bit, but after three hours, all Connor's belongings were put in bags, and Connor was standing in the living-room, shifting from one feet to another, clearly uncomfortable.

"You want something to drink ?" Oliver asked, voice thick with anxiety, unable to hide it.

Connor shook his head, his fingers tapping once again again his own hip. "No... I'm good. Thank you" Connor answered. He rubbed his neck a little. "So... I'm not gonna disturb you any longer"

"You're not !" Oliver almost yelled, and instantly wanted to slap himself. "you're not disturbing me. You could never. I..." Oliver whined, frustrated. "I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot..."

"Hey..." Connor said softly, taking a step forward and placing his hands on Oliver's shoulders. Oliver stilled completely, feeling a strange warmth settle in his stomach. "It's not because of you, okay ? It's just this city. I need to leave. It's not you." 

Oliver just leaned forward and pressed his lips on Connor's, tasting them for the first time in a long time, and he felt something finally be released inside of him, like he was waiting for this his entire life. He kissed him once, twice, and stepped away, afraid Connor would get mad, or... 

But Connor just gripped at his waist. "Ollie" he whispered, like he was pleading, but Oliver didn't know what he was pleading for, until Connor kissed him back, mouth warm and hands soft. Oliver melted into the embrace, his heart beating madly against his chest, because, finally. 

They kissed, and they kissed, until Oliver felt his back hit a wall, not even realizing they moved, and then Connor was everywhere. Tugging at his tee-shirt, pressing their hips together, biting his neck, and Oliver could just breathe and groan and pull at Connor's hair. Then, Connor's hands found the hem of his boxers, playing with it, before taking them away, and then Connor was dropping to his knees and his mouth was around him, hot and so good and  _oh, oh._

Everything was a blur of pleasure and moans and warmth. When things got a little clear again, Connor flopped back onto his back, on the bed, taking Oliver down with him, with a mix of burning touches and fervent kisses. 

Tender was how Oliver always imagined this moment. From one year, he had imagined how their reunion (if they reunited). Sweet and slow and romantic. Not a blur of motion, a misty world of thrusting hips and grabbing hands and hungry lips. But he didn't care, because it felt better than everything he could've dreamed off. Pushing inside of Connor, feeling his hands grip at his hips, tugging him closer, moaning his name in babbled endearments and  _oh fuck, Connor_ and  _so good_ and  _baby..._

It's over before he knows it, dropping himself on Connor's torso, sweat covering both of their bodies as he struggled to take his breath, Connor doing the same thing. They stayed hugging like that, Oliver's face buried in the crook of his neck, Connor's hands playing absently with the hair on his neck. 

 _I love you,_ Oliver wanted to say.  _I love you so much._

"please don't leave me" he said instead. 

Connor's fingers stilled on his neck, his breath stopped, and against his cheek, Oliver felt his heart skip a beat. 

During one tiny moment, it was like time froze. Both of them stayed unmoving, holding their breath, tensed and anxious. 

And Connor's fingers moved again.

 

 

**T H E   E N D**

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... here it is. After more than 4 months, the end of this story ^^  
> I know it’s a rather an open ending, and it’s done on purpose : you can either believe Connor will stay with Oliver, or believe he won’t, or even that Oliver will leave Philadelphia with connor.  
> I personally think Oliver will leave Philadelphia with Connor. Because he loves him, and Connor won't be able to live in the apartment when he tried to kill himself, and neither will he be able to find happiness in the city where he watched so many things happen.  
> I really hope you liked it ^^
> 
> Follow me on tumblr : https://itscrxnknwt.tumblr.com


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